


Misery Loves Company

by starstruck1986



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Age Difference, Alcohol, Blow Jobs, Community: hp_crossgenfest, Cross-Generation Relationship, Explicit Language, First Time, Heavy Angst, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Recreational Drug Use, Rimming, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-19
Updated: 2017-08-19
Packaged: 2018-12-15 17:05:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 24,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11810394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starstruck1986/pseuds/starstruck1986
Summary: Happiness can be found in the darkest of times, if one only remembers to turn on the light.





	Misery Loves Company

**Author's Note:**

> Note to self: do not pick a slow burn prompt when you're in the third trimester of pregnancy. Thanks to the mods for their patience with me and allowing me to play, and to my beta S for getting 25k out of the blue in an emergency and still turning it around. Thank you for the wonderful prompt, prompter – I love these two together.

“Mum, c'mon, that's more than enough.”

“You can never have enough cake!”

Ron decided to passive-aggressively chew the inside of his cheek instead of answering further. There was no real point in arguing with his mum about the insane amount of food she was currently packing into a magically enlarged backpack.

There were plenty of things he would prefer to be doing than shouldering his mother's best cooking efforts and heading half-way up the country to spend time with a man who barely bothered to put on the appearance of tolerating him.

“I know what you're thinking, Ron!”  
“That I wish my mother would get out of my head?”  
“That you don't want to go and see Severus, and that there's no point.”

Ron wasn't going to stand there and call her a liar.

Eventually she sighed and put her hands on her hips. “He doesn't have any other company, dear.”

“He doesn't bloody want company! He just wants to be left alone.” _Which makes two of us._  
“Well, he has since day one but his health said otherwise, didn't it?” She shrugged. “But that wasn't possible, and you, my lovely boy, were there to step in.”

That was an overstatement, Ron felt – it was more like he'd been harangued into it until he was sick of the sound of his mother's voice.

“I'm sure he appreciates it, Ron.”

All he could do was snort derisively in response.

Ron shrugged the backpack onto his shoulders and grimaced as his t-shirt stuck to his back. The weather was far too hot for late September.

Even though he didn't want to admit it, the prospect of talking to someone who wasn't his mum was appealing, even if that person was Severus Snape. He had been increasingly lonely since Hermione had packed her bags and headed for Hogwarts and Harry – well, Harry had been sucked into the Ministry machine and barely had time to breathe, let alone spend time with anyone.

Ron had missed his friends before to the point of misery, but there was something aching in his chest this time which felt soul-damaging.

“You be careful.” The threat was lovingly put, but Ron had no trouble believing his mother when she gave him her best 'or else' glare.  
“See you tonight,” he called over his shoulder and strode out of the back door, out into the abnormally hot sunshine.

He didn't bother to look again as he made his way down the driveway, knowing that his mum would watch him until he disappeared on the other side of the boundary fence. The war had taught him a thing or two about looking over his shoulder at people he loved. The last time he'd done it, the person had been dead when he checked again.

_Nope. Not today, misery._

Gripping his wand, Ron turned into the spot and focussed on a place miles away, a place he'd been so many times since May that it had become familiar. People recognised him and he recognised them in return. They swapped pleasantries in the little shop he frequented in order to pick up the preferred contraband items of his charge.

It was to that shop he headed for when he emerged safely and unnoticed in a thick copse of trees. The air up North had a slightly cooler breeze to it than down in Devon, which he was grateful for as he shifted the bag on his back and shouldered through the door of the cramped corner shop. It was dark inside with a faint tang of sugary boiled sweets in the air.

“Morning,” he called to the girl at the till as he slid open the Muggle refrigerator and selected three cans of the drink which Severus Snape claimed to be the only thing to get rid of the intense headaches he'd been plagued with since the Battle.

The Healers scowled about them and made no secret of the fact that they thought the drinks were poison. Ron felt that if Severus Snape wanted a few cans of Coke to help with a bit of agony, he was entitled to have them. He'd suffered enough. 

On his way to the till, Ron also stuffed a copy of the Muggle newspaper he had come to know that Severus preferred under his arm, and grabbed a few chocolate bars from the side. The girl behind the counter gave him her usual curious smile and began totting up his purchases. Ron enjoyed the mundane sound of the till pinging for a while and tried not to think about how much that made him like his father. When asked he handed over some money and then was quickly on his way again.

The cans were cold in his palm and he was grateful to them as the sun bore directly down onto his red hair. By the time he strolled the two streets to Severus' house, he was sweating hard and trying not to shiver at how it tickled over his skin.

He awkwardly managed to ring the doorbell and then waited. As he did he noticed tarnished sconces on either side of the door – he supposed once they might have supported hanging baskets. That might be something he could sort out if Severus wanted him to. Brighten up the street a little.

Ron knew he had absolutely no legs to stand on about the state of anyone's childhood home, but at least his dump had been brightly coloured and cheerful. It might have fallen down on their heads at any point but at the very least they would have been happy before it did.

Spinner's End was miserable even in the sunshine.

Finally Ron heard the sounds of footsteps coming closer and took a deep breath, wondering what Severus Snape he'd be seeing that day. There were many incarnations and very few of them actually tolerated him.

When the door opened he sighed internally. He could tell from the tension in the man's forehead and the pallor of his skin that things were not going well.

“Not a good day?” Ron asked softly.  
“Does it look like one?” Severus responded tersely. “Get in. I don't want to let the heat in.”

Ron did as he was told and hurried into the dingy hallway. The kitchen was at the end and he went there first, putting down the drink cans, paper and chocolate, and finally slid the backpack off.

“What's in that?” Severus asked.  
“Mum sent food.”  
“I don't need food.”  
“I told her that.” Ron shrugged and wiped his forearm over his brow. “But she sent it anyway. Got you your Coke and stuff.”

There was only a curt nod in response and Ron forced himself to hold his tongue, to bite back the bitter comment about how the wizard was such an ungrateful bastard.

_He's ill. Nobody's nice when they're ill, especially not you. So shut up and go and do something._

“I'm going to carry on in the garden,” Ron announced. “Shout if you need anything.”

***

 

“Come _out_ , you little fucker,” Ron growled under his breath, throwing all of his weight into trying to dig out the remains of a bush he'd hacked down to a stump.

Blinking dumbly at his surroundings, Ron took a moment to wipe the sweat out of his eyes and take a pause. The heat had only grown more intense and he'd long since stripped off his t-shirt. He could smell his body ripening with each passing minute.

“Why don't you just give up and use magic, Weasley?”

Ron started because he'd thought he was completely alone in the garden, but when he looked Severus was sitting on the bench outside the back door, surveying the green space with an unimpressed look on his face.

“You know what the Healers said,” Ron replied finally. “No magic that isn't necessary. Sorting the garden out isn't necessary.”  
“Then why are you doing it?”  
“Because...” Ron floundered a little. “Because I said so, there you go.”

Severus' dark eyes rolled at him and Ron turned back to the stump unable to keep from grinning.

“I came out here because I thought you'd want to be left alone?”  
“I _did_ want to be left alone. But the mind is a changeable beast, Weasley. At least, mine is.”

Ron had no comeback for that. He barely knew what he wanted either. One minute it seemed settled on a task or a path, the next everything was back up in the air again. He hated it.

As he bent over to tackle the stump again, his upper arm brushed over one of his nipples. It was only then that Ron realised he had his top off in the presence of someone he barely knew. That made him feel faintly nauseous.

“Accio,” he muttered, pointing his wand at it where he'd slung it over a fence post.

He wriggled his way back into the thin, faded cotton and pulled it down. He glanced at Severus and found him watching – but Ron never knew whether he was really watching, or whether he was staring in the general direction but thousands of miles away in mind.

“You've managed to get yourself sunburnt, Weasley. You've only been out here an hour and a half.”  
“I'm ginger,” Ron pointed out.  
“And presumably therefore well acquainted with the damage the sun can do to you. I'll get you some soothing balm.”  
“It's fine – really -”

But Severus had already disappeared into the house. Ron stared down at the troublesome stump and felt like a child again, chastened by a grown up who just happened to be more grown up than himself. With a sigh, he grabbed hold of the wooden spade handle and prepared to resume his fight.

***

Ron jogged down the stairs and enjoyed the cooling sensations rippling over the burnt skin on his back and neck, and over the stinging blisters on his palms caused by digging the afternoon away. As he stepped into the kitchen he thought he heard the hiss of a can of Coke being opened and smiled to himself.

“What d'you fancy for dinner?” He called over his shoulder, stopping to survey the state of the wizard's pantry. “Mum sent over some savoury stuff too, some of her best work. Chicken, Bacon and Leek pie?”

He waited and heard approaching footsteps.

“You do not have to make me dinner Weasley. I am no longer completely incompetent.”  
“I know you're not.”  
“Then why do you insist on making me dinner every evening?”  
“I want to.” Ron shrugged and slipped his hands into his jeans pockets. _It gives me something to do rather than go home and see my Mummy and then go home and wank until I fall asleep._

“Why?” Severus asked irritably. “It seemed like you couldn't get away fast enough and now I can't get rid of you for love nor money.”  
“You haven't tried either of those, to be fair. Not even a tiny ickle bit of appreciation.”  
“And yet you refuse to stop coming.”

“If I stop coming, who's going to bring you your little contraband stash, hmm?” Ron raised his eyebrows. “Who else is going to let you do whatever the fuck you want to do, even if it's bad for you? You really think you can find a better guardian than me? You're welcome to try. But none of them will be as laid back as I am.”  
“Nor as useful about the house, I'd wager.”

It was Ron's turn to roll his eyes. “Do you want the fucking pie or not, mate?”

Severus looked conflicted and Ron laughed.

“Go and sit down. I'll make your tea and then sod off.”

He thought he heard a muttered 'good' as he turned away.

***

Ron shivered as he stood under the lukewarm spray of the shower. The night had finally cooled down outside but the house retained the stifling heat. His bedroom at the very top of the pile was going to be a complete nightmare. So however cold he was standing huddled in the bath, he wasn't going to knock it.

As usual for about ten at night, he felt completely empty and flat. Another day had passed and all he had done in it was tend to a surly war veteran and resent his life.

To pass time he lathered up the soap in his hands and ran it over his body again, despite already having done so once before. _Live a little. Be good to yourself._

He scowled to himself again. He wondered if all school leavers felt like they'd lost their purpose in life. Whilst they'd been hunting Horcruxes and saving the world, his purpose and destination had been clear – to be by Harry's side. Whether he made it through alive or dead was of no consequence, because he'd known that was where he was supposed to be and what he was supposed to be doing.

But now – back home with his Mum and Dad, washing himself twice for a bit of a shake up? Ron had no idea what his purpose was or where his life was going. If Severus Snape was his purpose he hated that idea more than he had hated the idea of returning to Hogwarts. And that had been a visceral, steeled-gut vehemence against the possibility.

The thought of writing an essay on the Dark Arts after a year of fighting it first hand was laughable.

There was a nagging feeling in his mind, though, that even though he'd had a purpose in the war, it wasn't really his own. 'The Greater Good' was a phrase he was sick of hearing but it was true. He'd acted for his family's good – for Harry's good. Everyone else could do one as far as he was concerned, but at the end of the day, they still fought a war for a better future for everyone.

But acting for Harry had caused problems of its own, which he was reminded of as a pain sliced through his chest. He had fallen in love with Harry to his cost.

And it was that which made it all so terribly lonely.

With a sniff Ron finally turned off the shower and pulled back the curtain. It was a night for treats, he'd decided. A mouthful of dreamless sleep would be just the ticket.

* * *

 

Finally, the heat had broken. As Ron made his way from the corner shop to Severus' house, there was even a hefty breeze buffeting him. The sky was hung with low grey cloud and everything looked dull. Ron was fine with that – it matched how he felt inside. He took a deep breath as he rounded onto Severus' street but found it deserted as always. He didn't really want to be there, but what else would he have done? Stayed in bed at home with his mother knocking on his door every hour to see if he fancied doing something?

“Bloody nope,” Ron declared resolutely.

He shifted the paper under his arm and reached up to knock on the door. He sometimes wondered if Severus would ever trust him with a key, but wasn't expecting it to ever come to fruition. He supposed the Slytherin wanted a Weasley traipsing unannounced into his house as little as Ron wanted to do the traipsing.

Ron waited for the sounds of footsteps but none came. He leant to his left and tried to peer through the net curtains, but he couldn't see any lights or movement. He knocked again and that time the door sprang open a few centimetres unaided. Cautiously Ron eased it all the way open and slipped inside. The hallway was desperately dark and depressing.

“Severus?” he called out tentatively. “Where are you?”

He heard a mutter he couldn't make out from the living room and headed that way. When he got there he found the older wizard slumped on the sofa, covered in three blankets and looking decidedly rough.

“What's up?” he asked immediately, setting the Coke cans and paper down on the coffee table. 

Severus merely closed his eyes and gave a sharp shake of his head. Ron knew that movement - _'don't ask questions'._

“Do you need me to-”  
“I don't need the sodding Healers swarming around here. Call them and I'll hex you so hard you can't sit down for a week.”

Ron rolled his eyes, safe in the knowledge that Severus' own were closed and he would not see.

“How long have you been like this?” Ron asked, daring to inch closer.  
“Since I woke up. And half the night, I suppose.”

As it always was when his health took a turn for the worse, Severus' voice was feeble and sentences seemed to require a massive amount of effort. Ron chewed nervously into his lip and glanced between Severus and the fireplace. It would take nothing at all to Firecall the hospital and ask for a visit. He'd had to do it before, quite often in fact, in those early days.

“Can I just..” he threw caution to the wind and pressed his palm to Severus' forehead.

The man jumped and his dark eyes burst into view, but he didn't say anything.

“Quite cool really...” Ron dropped his hand. “When was the last time you ate or drank something?”

Severus looked pointedly away and that told Ron what he needed to know.

“Sometimes I worry about your brain,” he muttered angrily. “I'm going to make you something to eat and top you up with drinks. You'll probably feel better then.”  
“Perhaps.”  
“You know I'm right,” Ron needled.

There was no answer.

***

After he'd fed and watered both the invalid and himself, Ron found himself sitting quietly in Severus' living room with the paper in his lap whilst the man in question dozed. He could have just gone home after he'd made lunch, but something had made him stay put. He'd barely read the paper; looking around Severus' living room proved more interesting. It was mainly full of books.

It struck Ron as strange that it was devoid of any form personal touch – unless the books were the only personal touch Severus Snape could manage.

“What are you staring at?”

Severus' bitter question jerked Ron out of a reverie he'd not noticed slipping into. He licked his lips and tried not to look guilty.

 _”What?”_ Severus barked. “Spit it out.”  
“It's just... you have no family stuff in here. Just books and papers and potions journals... No pictures. No keepsakes.”  
“I don't have any that I'd care to look at every day. My family was not like yours... so sickeningly in love. You suffocate one another.”

Ron could tell that the words were said with a decent amount of malice. He wasn't a stranger to Severus' ire – after all, in those first few weeks where life was a shock to the man who had seemingly expected to die, it had all become rather hairy and fraught.

He saw the surprise in the older wizard's expression as he replied, “Fair play.”

“My description doesn't anger you?”  
“I'm eighteen, living at home after a year of freedom. Come on, you're a clever bloke. It should be bloody obvious that I feel like I'm running out of air.”

Severus studied him for a moment before tightening his expression. “Despite the discomfort, I think I'd rather have your reality over mine.”

Ron thought about that and then shook his head. “Sure, being the useless youngest, who can never do anything impressive because everything he could do has already been done. That's a great place to be in.”

He saw dark eyes narrow and waited.

“Grow up, Weasley,” Severus said, not disappointing him. “You are _blessed_. Deal with it. You have done plenty to distinguish yourself and the only person who thinks you're lacking is yourself.” 

_Ouch._ Ron didn't feel like he was being idiotic. He accepted that in the past he had been immature and felt that he'd made good progress into putting the majority of his petty hurt behind him since the war – but there were some things which still ran deep. The nauseating self-doubt and loathing were not personality traits he could shed. Godric-only-knew he'd tried, and suffered the consequences of letting them bog him down.

He swallowed but found his throat painfully dry. He felt sick, a sure sign of becoming emotional, which he didn't want to show to the man providing a character assassination.

“What, no swearing?” Severus threw over. “No denial? Perhaps you're not as thick as you look. You seem to be able to recognise the truth at least.”

It was time to leave, Ron decided. He folded the paper and put it to one side, then he got to his feet.

“Oh, very mature. Running home to mummy?” The words were cold.

Ron took several deep breaths and stared at a spot on the wall. “You think I come here fifty times a week to be your punchbag? That I have nothing better to do?”  
“Well if you insist in sitting there and wallowing in-”  
“Pick on somebody else,” Ron said loudly over the top of the other man. “Bloody hell. You'd think cheating death might have made you less of a fucking bully, but I s'pose not, eh?”

He made himself meet Severus' eyes and was dismayed if slightly pleased to see that he had been hurt by the words.

“If coming here is _such_ a terrible inconvenience for you, don't bother next time.”  
“Maybe I won't.”

He said nothing further as he left the living room and stomped to the front door, which he took very great pleasure in slamming behind him.

He stepped onto the pavement and sucked in a few lungfuls of air, but it felt dry and unsatisfying. Anger built within him as he started to walk, anger that Severus had managed to rile him so easily, that he'd become emotional so quickly and that after everything he'd done for the man, he was still content to treat him like he was shit.

Ron clenched his fingers into fists as he stomped towards his Apparition hidey-hole.

“Fucking bastard,” he muttered bitterly to himself, over and over.

When it came to it, he knew that Severus hadn't really said anything he didn't already know. It was just the truth. But he could feel the self-loathing starting to trickle through him like a steady drip, growing stronger and stronger in his veins with each passing second.

He took a deep sniff and stopped once he had reached the thick of the trees. He put his fingers up to his face and violently scrubbed it, until the skin was practically screaming under the pressure.

 _I need him._ The thought floated through his mind and he tried to ignore it, but again – it was the truth. He kept being confronted by the truth.

Ron had absolutely no idea where Harry would be leading towards tea-time in the middle of the week. They didn't often have time to share schedules and Harry's was so full that Ron had almost stopped trying to compete to fit in it.

All he did know was that he didn't want to go home and be quizzed over his foul mood, and only Harry could lift him out of the sort of funk he was heading for. Harry didn't know why he could do that, but Ron didn't particularly care at that point. He would take what he could get.

***

“How is he?” Harry asked, finally dropping down on the sofa next to Ron with a cup of tea in hand.

Ron realised too late that Harry would want to talk about Severus.

“As miserable a bat as he ever was,” Ron replied.

Grimmauld Place was a lot more welcoming with Harry in permanent residence. Ron had helped him get rid of the oppressive dark wallpaper and furnishings during the summer, between playing nursemaid to Snape and trying to get his head around being safe. Now it looked like a home – one with light and love in it. Ron had certainly put love into helping Harry renovate it.

“How's his health?”  
“Why don't you go and ask him?” Ron heard the sourness in his tone and winced.

Harry stared at him astutely. Ron didn't need those green eyes on him at that moment.

“What's happened?”  
“Oh... just... him being a twat, that's all.” Ron shrugged and pretended it was nothing. “He got his arse out this afternoon and had a go. Nothing major.”  
“What did he say?”  
“Nothing that wasn't really the truth.”  
“But the truth hurts sometimes.”  
“Well. Yeah. I don't know what to tell you.” Ron sipped his own tea and looked pointedly away.

Harry exhaled hard through his mouth and drank some of his own drink. They sat in stunted silence for some time, until Ron felt as though his chest was going to burst with emotion, and Ginny came through the parlour door.

“Oh, hi Ron! Didn't know you were here.” She rounded the sofa and reached out to mess up his hair before dropping into an armchair. “Everything all right?”

He forced a smile for her and hoped it looked natural. 

_Coming here was a massive fucking mistake._

He didn't need to be confronted by the biggest thorn in his side – the fact that Harry was obviously, madly in love with his little sister. They were already engaged and getting married in 1999. They were already planning the wedding and he was meant to be involved as the best man.

_You're an idiot._

“Thanks for the tea,” he said finally, and drained his cup. “I'd best be off or mum'll be sending out a search party.”  
“You're going?” Harry asked sadly.  
“Um... yeah. Stuff to do.” Ron knew he was lying badly but he just wanted to escape.

It always seemed like a good idea, seeking Harry out when he was hurting, but it really wasn't. He just ended up hurting harder or, like that evening, faced with the reality of his situation.

_That you're a fucking idiot who fell in love with the one person you could never have._

“See you at Sunday lunch then?” Harry asked.  
“Yeah. Sure. See you then.”

He gave them both a final wave and hurried out into the hallway and down to the front door, which he ducked out of without further hesitation. He didn't look back over his shoulder as he strode away through the square.

He still didn't want to go home, but there was nowhere else he could really go. Once again, the fact that he had no life to call his own, or at the very least distract him, reared out in the darkness.

Ron knew he could catch a Portkey up to Scotland and drop in on Hermione, which he'd been given express permission to do by McGonagall. After all, to everyone else, there was still a blossoming romance between the pair of them which needed to be nurtured because it had taken them long enough in the first place.

Only Ron and Hermione knew that was not the case. They'd tried, several times, but by the time Hermione was ready to engage with him emotionally and sexually, his feelings for Harry already had hold. Hiding them from her had been the hardest thing, even worse than hiding them from Harry himself. By some sliver of luck, however, it hadn't just been him having problems. Hermione had found it hard to be intimate with him, to be close as they had never been before. Her parents lost in Australia were tormenting her and she wanted to go back to Hogwarts. He couldn't think of anything worse.

 

In all it seemed that their relationship had passed the point where it could have been anything other than friendship. As he walked, Ron idly wondered when that was. Maybe Lavender had been the nail in the coffin. Or just the war in general.

 _You listen to a man shit his stomach out because the trout you cooked was so terrible... that's got to have a negative effect on your feelings for him._ Ron winced recalling the more awkward parts of their camping. 

He was walking aimlessly, not sure of where he was or where he was going. He was tired and his feet hurt, and he knew he should go home, but he just couldn't face it.

* * *

“Ron? It's late. Are you going to Severus' today? You'd best get a move on if you are.”

Ron held his breath and made fists in his blankets as he listened to his mother through the door.

“I don't feel well,” he called back, trying his hardest to sound pathetic.

There was a loaded pause before she responded, “Okay. Let me know if you need anything.”

Ron continued to hold his breath until he heard her footsteps two floors below. Then he let go of the blanket and let out a half-hearted scream into his fingers.

The thought of trudging back to Manchester to see Severus again had proved too much. Ron had been feigning illness ever since and was trying desperately not to feel guilty about it.

“He doesn't need round the clock supervision any more!” He said frustratedly to himself. “He's capable of being by himself and I've done more than enough for that old git.”

No matter how many times he said it, his brain refused to believe it. So he had spent the past few days lying in bed, in a foul mood and immensely randy to boot. Despite the surging hormones, he'd even grown bored of masturbation considering the amount of times he'd done it. And really, lying in bed wanking over a man he couldn't have was doing nothing to improve his mood.

“Is this it?” He demanded of his glaringly orange ceiling. “Is this just my life now? Did I fight a fucking war for this, to be left behind by everyone and just lie about in bed knocking one out every hour?!”

Again, he groaned into his fingers and closed his eyes. It was raining outside and he could hear it teeming down on the roof and against the building. He was just considering getting up and going for a walk in it when he heard hurried footsteps on the stairs. A moment later there was a knock on the door.

“Ron? Sorry. I know you're not feeling well but there's just been a message from Severus. He sounded quite panicked. He asked if you could visit him now.”

He was up out of bed and had the door open. “Did something happen?”  
“He wouldn't say, but he did look shaken. You'd best hurry. He said to Floo.”

Ron raised his eyebrows at that. He'd never been invited to enter directly into Severus' home before.

“Okay.”

***

When he stepped off the grate, he found the living room empty.

“Severus?”  
“Kitchen.”

The word was ground out, as if through teeth tightly mashed together. Ron cautiously proceeded to the back of the house.

“What happened?” he asked gently, seeing Severus sat slumped at the tiny kitchen table, his hair a mess, looking pale and most definitely shaken.  
“I blacked out at the top of the stairs. Must have fallen. Did this.”

Ron had to stop from visibly recoiling as the wizard revealed his broken right wrist, which was misshapen and bruised.

“Fuck.” He got down on his knees in front of Severus and leant in for a closer look. “You need to go to the hospital.”  
“I... I don't want t-to,” Severus whispered. 

Looking up into his face, Ron was panicked to see red-rimmed eyes and a defeated looking expression.

“Well... I can try healing it?” Ron said dubiously. “But I've never healed a bone before. I might just properly fuck it up...”  
“You can do it,” Severus said quietly. “I've seen the strength of your magic. Your ability. You can do it, Ron. I'd try myself but that's my wand arm.”

His tone was half pleading, half encouraging. Ron wanted to believe him.

“D'you think Episkey is strong enough? I've used it on animal leg bones before.”  
“You said you'd never healed a bone before?”  
“Well... stupid owls and idiot chickens don't really count.” Ron furrowed his brow and pulled his wand out.

With one furtive last look at Severus he specifically angled his own wand and uttered the spell.

He knew it had worked from the crunching of the bone and the shocked cry of pain which escaped Severus' mouth. He put down his wand and instead put his fingers softly to the repaired arm. He crept his fingers all over the surface of the area that had been bent out of shape feeling for any obvious fault, but knew he'd never tell from touch alone if he'd been successful.

“Can you move it?” he asked, finally sitting back.

Severus gingerly lifted it and tested his strength. "It feels... good. You did it.”  
“You said you believed I could,” Ron breathed.

A sheepish smirk started to twitch Severus' mouth. “Otherwise you would have taken me to the hospital. And I didn't want to go.”

“You... you bastard!” Ron huffed, suddenly feeling quite breathless and dizzy. “That could have gone so fucking wrong!”

He reached up and rubbed his forehead and his hand came away sweaty. Severus made to get up.

“Whoa, no you don't. Bloody sit down!” Ron grabbed his wand and pointed it at him. “Accio healing kit.”

He knew Severus kept a ever restocking healing kit in the bathroom. He'd used it himself a few times when the garden bit back. It came to a gentle rest on the table in front of him and he unwrapped it. He found what he was looking for quickly – a pot of bruise ointment which he wasted no time in starting to stroke over the break site.

It was only when his thumb brushed over the veins on the underside of Severus' wrist that he considered that he might be making the older man feel uncomfortable. He quickly hurried the rest of the application and then got to his feet.

“Up,” he gestured. 

Severus looked up at him expectantly.

“That chair will kill your back. Living room. Sit somewhere soft.”

He was wholly surprised when Severus allowed himself to be helped out of the chair and back through to the living room. Ron settled him and then doubled back, putting the kettle on and making some tea. He reached for a bottle of Ogden's up high on a shelf and pulled out the stopper. He slugged a decent amount into Severus' drink and then without further thought put the bottle to his mouth and sloshed some down his throat.

He came out gasping on the other side, but felt clearer headed for it. He put the bottle back, finished making the tea, and carried the two mugs back to the living room. Severus watched him as he threw himself onto the sofa.

Ron had no idea what he was feeling. Shock, guilt, anxiety.

“Ron...”  
“Mm?”  
“Uh... I don't... I don't wish to be alone. Do you have anywhere to be?”  
“No. Couldn't get up and leave if I wanted to,” Ron said weakly.

Severus gave him a thankful smile and drank some tea. “I also owe you an apology. For the last time we spoke.”  
“Well, I owe you one too.”

The wizard's dark head nodded and he became extremely interested in his tea. “Whenever my father comes into conversation I find myself acting like him. After all these years I'd hoped I would have grown out of it. It seems not.”

Ron didn't know what to say to that, so he drank his own tea and waited to see if Severus would continue.

“My family was the complete opposite of yours. I have no doubt that your mother birthed and loved each of you as a precious commodity. Mine might have, at first, but when he found out that I was like her... there was certainly no love from him. For either of us. And I think she loved me less as a result.”

Ron opened his mouth to speak – not that he had any idea what he was about to say – but Severus continued.

“He was an abusive alcoholic. It started after I expressed my first signs of magic. She'd told him I wouldn't be like her... I don't know what possessed her. But after that the abuse became regular, first with her, then with me as well. She was too afraid to live life alone so she put up with it. She expected me to too. When I couldn't, I was only sealing my place as an eternal disappointment to her.”

Again, Ron was stumped at the display of honesty. He knew from Harry that Severus had had an unhappy childhood.

“Don't trouble yourself with finding something to say,” Severus said softly. “There's nothing to be said. It is what it is and, as my Healers tell me, I have to move on.”

He finally seemed finished and started sipping his tea again.

“I'm sorry,” Ron blurted, feeling a blush rise high on his cheekbones.  
“I told you-”  
“Has anyone ever said they're sorry to you? For everything? Not just one thing, but everything?”

Dark, wide eyes surveyed him curiously. “What do you mean, for everything?”

Ron shook his head. “For your shit childhood? For being bullied at school? For being radicalised? For being a pawn for two people who you needed to love you? For nearly copping it once and for all?”

He could have continued, but chose not to – he could see that his list had made Severus awkward.

“Why would they?” The older wizard asked quietly.  
“Because someone _should,_ ” Ron said matter-of-factly.

Severus said nothing, but looked somewhat touched.

***  
Ron lurched awake with a snort. He didn't remember falling asleep. Around him the living room was in darkness bar the fire and Ron moaned at the pain in his neck. When he looked at Severus he found him staring back.

“You were dreaming.”  
“Was I?”  
“About someone you clearly love very much.”

Panic seized him then. What had he said? _Oh, Merlin, please don't let me have had a boner-_

“Don't panic. No man can control his dreams.”

Ron tried to bring his breathing back under control.

“You said you loved them. Many times. Almost as if you were begging them to say it back.”

Forgetting himself, Ron quickly replied, “Well, that's accurate.”  
“You shouldn't beg someone for love. If they don't give it freely or without condition, it isn't worth having.”

Still feeling disorientated from his unexpected nap, Ron knew he'd regret it when he spoke again. “I want him to love me so much.”

He made sure he looked the older man in the eye then, but was surprised to find no surprise in his eyes that the person he was pining for was male.

“How long have you wanted him?”  
“Years,” Ron admitted bitterly.  
“Have you ever told him?”  
“He doesn't want me back.” Ron shrugged.  
“That's not what I asked.”  
“Why would you put yourself through the agony of that conversation when you already know the answer?!”

Severus hesitated for a moment and then said, simply, “Closure.”

Ron conceded he had a point there. If he told Harry and got the rejection he expected, he could probably start to move on. “I guess... but I'm not good at dealing with pain.”

“Who is?” Severus asked the room at large. “Certainly not me. It twisted me, ruined me to my very core. It is human to hurt.”  
“Then I don't want to be human,” Ron declared petulantly.  
“Werewolves, vampires... they all still feel. You can't escape your capacity to feel. I don't think anybody can.”

“Well, what about you then? You act like nothing gets in.”

Severus seemed to be considering the merits of answering. Eventually he sighed, shook his head and said, “Every breath hurts.”

* * *

Ron swiped his finger along the blade of the knife he had used to spread jam with and popped it in his mouth. It was delicious, homemade plum jam from someone, somewhere, that Severus knew who made tasty things and sent them to him.

“Who makes this? It's so good!” He half-moaned around his finger.  
“Nobody of consequence. Now pass it over before I waste away.”

Ron did as he was told without further comment and picked up his cup of tea. He'd gone to Severus' early to help him to the hospital, which they both hated, but had to be done at least once a month. He was hungry too, but he couldn't stay. Somehow he'd been roped into meeting Charlie from St Pancras, where he was ending a long journey home. Someone had talked his forest-loving brother into a stint working with the Ministry on revamping the legislation around dragons.

He couldn't particularly see it ending well when Charlie's answer would always be 'more dragons, all the dragons, please!' But it was nice that his brother had a cover story for the fact he felt homesick for England and his family. He'd only gone back at the end of August after an extended stay following the Battle of Hogwarts. Ron had known he'd be back sooner rather than later.

Drinking steadily until he reached the bottom of his cup, Ron took a deep breath and swallowed. “I've been sent with summons. We're having a little Halloween bash. Mum asked me to tell you that you're very welcome to come if you feel up to it.”

There was a clunk as Severus' plate landed on the kitchen table. He frowned as he furiously tried to get through his mouthful but made himself choke in the process. By the time he'd taken a swig of tea and wiped his eyes, he was red in the face.

“Are you seriously inviting _me_ to a party, Weasley?” He asked incredulously.

Ron sighed and looked down at his feet. “Nope. I'm inviting you to a full blown Samhain orgy. I'm the virgin sacrifice.”

Severus' eyes popped slightly.

“Of course it's a fucking party.” Ron laughed and shook his head.

“Did your brains fall out on your way over here?” Severus asked seriously.  
“Well this is progress. At the start of all this you insisted I had no brains to lose whatsoever.”  
“Ten brain cells is hardly something to shout about.” Dark eyes narrowed almost playfully.

Ron just smiled and shook his head again. Eventually he sighed and put his empty mug in the sink.

“Do you want me to make some more food before I go? It's practically lunch time anyway.”

Severus looked at him for a moment and then directed his gaze out of the back window. “It's finally brightened up outside. Why don't we go for a walk?”

It was Ron's turn to frown in suspicion. Severus never suggested they went anywhere. It was sod's law that it happened to be on the one day Ron had other plans. But oddly going for a walk in the autumn sunshine with his old professor seemed far more appealing than tackling the city.

“You'd have to use the walking stick?” he pointed out.

Severus looked like he was about to argue but eventually responded with, “I suppose I can manage that for some fresh air.”

“And...” Ron hesitated. “You'll be seen out. With me.”  
“No, I'll be out with my other servant boy, Donald.” Severus rolled his eyes. “Of course you, you lunatic.”

“I hope you're bloody nicer to Donald than you are to me,” Ron muttered.

Severus laughed.

***

 

It was remarkably pleasant sitting in a patch of sunshine next to the river. Ron had known there was water nearby but not quite how close it actually ran to the back of Severus' house.

They were sat on a massive fallen tree sharing a bag of chips he'd bought from the parade of shops nearby.

“Are you sure you're warm enough?” Ron asked, casting his eyes over the wizard's thin frame and thinking of his precarious health.

“Weasley, I am _fine_ ,” Severus growled. He viciously speared a chip on his wooden fork. “If you ask me one more time, I will drown you in the river and stuff your body to rot in this tree.”

Ron sat with his mouth open until he could find the wherewithal to respond. “Wow. That escalated quickly.”

Severus chewed on his potato victim and swallowed. He sighed and said, “Apologies. I'm just sick to the back teeth of being nannied.”  
“The last time I tried to leave you alone, you fell down the stairs and broke your bloody wrist!” Ron pointed out.

“That was weeks ago,” Severus said.  
“Not enough weeks ago, actually.”  
“Oh do shut up, you insolent swine.”

Ron let the insult go and ate another chip. Only after several moments did he utter, “You're such a fucking miserable old bat.”

Severus' laugh was warm and rich as it sounded over the running water.

“Come to Mum and Dad's,” Ron said. “It'll do you good.”  
“Perhaps.”

* * *

The weather was perfect for Halloween. The sky was threatening rain and thunder and the air had a charge to it which Ron loved. He felt indecently alive, brimming with energy and youth.

He wasn't a fool – he knew that his sudden vitality was down to the fact that he had both Harry and Hermione within arm's reach. He'd already spent more time with both of them that evening than he had in weeks and it felt amazing, a tonic for the soul almost, to have his best friends around him again.

Everywhere he looked he could see his family and friends enjoying themselves, finally loosened up under the influence of alcohol and their biggest feast day of the year. His mum had excelled herself with the food and the garden was lit by faeries and the glow of the massive bonfire Charlie had built by hand in the yard.

All in all, he felt better than he had in months – possibly even since the battle. From the faces of those around him Ron didn't think he was the only one. Even Severus, sat thickly wrapped up in several layers as he chatted quietly with one of Bill's old friends, looked as though he was relaxed and content, and that was really saying something, Ron thought.

“Brother dearest,” Charlie hailed him. He came close to Ron and then muttered out of the corner of his mouth. “Would one care for a little extra something to make the night even more sweet?”  
“What little something are we talking about?” Ron grinned. “Not the mushrooms again. I don't need any more of your psychedelic Romanian forest mushrooms again.”  
“Nah, we got found out, can't grow them any more just in case any of the dragons get at them. So we'd had to switch tactics.”

With a snort, Ron followed Charlie across the yard to the edge of the orchard. On his way he passed Harry warming his hands and decided to go out on a limb and grab his arm.

“Wha-?” Harry blustered, staggering slightly.

Ron just winked at him and carried on dragging Harry towards the darkness of the trees.

“Ron, what're-”  
“Shhhh,” Ron teased playfully. “It'll be worth it.”

Charlie had been sharing the herbal refreshments that he grew secretly on the reserve with Ron since he'd turned seventeen. Ron heard the rasp of the muggle lighter's mechanism and then saw the flame, followed by the glowing red end of whatever Charlie had just lit.

“Wait, what are you-” Harry's voice was incredulous.

Ron grinned to himself again. Surprising Harry gave him an extra special kick. He took the joint as Charlie handed it to him and put it to his lips and sucked at it happily.

“ _Ron!_ ” Harry's gasp was high-pitched and somewhat impressed.

Ron guessed he should be ashamed of how much that pleased him, but he unashamedly wasn't. He took a few more drags and then handed it out to Harry. With wide eyes Harry took it, deliciously biting his lower lip as he did so.

“Why don't you two enjoy that one. I'm going to go and find some other brothers to corrupt.” Charlie clapped Ron on the shoulder as he passed. 

***

Ron knew he was high and he knew he was drunk. He felt better than he ever had in his entire life. He felt like there was actual life flowing through him, more than had been present for months. He knew he was going to suffer for it the next day but he really didn't care. The level of party goers had thinned out a little but there were still plenty of people around. Ron found himself checking on Severus every now and then, despite how inebriated he was. The wizard seemed perfectly content, but the last few checks had seen him looking decidedly weary.

Between trying to stay upright and checking that Severus was the same, Ron couldn't deny that the only other thing which had been occupying his mind was how beautiful Harry looked that evening. His eyes were bright and the colour in his cheeks was high and his hair was all over the place. Just how Ron liked it.

All night he'd been bursting to say something. It was definitely the alcohol and the drugs but it was growing stronger and stronger and he just knew it was going to happen. 

_Perhaps it's fucking time. Now or never._

“Hey!” Harry announced himself loudly and bumped into Ron where he stood. “You okay?”  
“Yeah.” Ron swallowed. “Yeah. Can I talk to you, Harry?”  
“We're already talking.”  
“By ourselves.”  
“Sure. Where?”

Ron jerked his head to indicate that Harry should follow him and just kept walking, even though he didn't really have a destination in mind. His eyes fell on his dad's shed and so he led them there. He stepped back to hold the door open for Harry and then followed him in. 

“Is there a light?” Harry asked, peering around. “Bit dark.”

Ron used his wand to send some floating balls of fire into the air. “He always forgets how to change the light bulb so he ends up in darkness half the time.” He rolled his eyes. “Bloody man.”

Harry laughed and wandered to the only clear workspace in the entire shed. He hopped onto it backwards and started swinging his legs. “So. What did you want to talk about?”

“Right. Yeah.” Ron went cold. He put his hands up over his face and scrubbed painfully to try and bring back some clarity. “I...”

He drifted closer, trying not to pay too much attention to the way Harry's jeans clung to his thighs and crotch.

“What's gotten into you?” Harry asked curiously.  
“You,” Ron answered softly. “You've gotten into me?”

Harry's brow creased with curiosity. “Eh?”

“Oh, gods,” Ron moaned. “Look. Harry. I've been trying to tell you for... so long... but there was never the right time, or the right way to say it and I just think I need to say it otherwise it's going to eat me alive and then I'll-”  
“Say what?” Harry asked loudly. “You're babbling.”  
“I babble when I'm nervous. You know this.”  
“Why are you nervous? You know you can tell me anything.”

Taking a deep breath which made his lungs ache, Ron closed his eyes. When he opened them again, he stepped forward to stand between his best friend's tantalising thighs.

 

“I'm in love with you, Harry. I... I just love you.”

Harry's eyes flew wide and he stared.

“I love you so much I don't know what to do with myself,” Ron breathed, shaking his head. “I miss you so much, you're so busy... and... yeah. I fucking love you.” He managed a lopsided smile to follow his admission.

He let his face fall, however, as time stretched on without a response from Harry. He looked shocked.

_Shit._

Suddenly the euphoria was gone, replaced with a soul-sucking feeling of dread and loathing.

“Ron...” When Harry finally spoke it was as if his mouth were glued together. “Ron I'm... really, really flattered but... I... I don't feel that way about you.”  
“You don't love me,” Ron whispered.

Along with the dread and self-loathing, a great hollow seemed to be opening up in his chest.

“I love you. Just not in the way I think you mean that you love me,” Harry said gently. “I'm sorry, Ron. I know this must have been hard for you to say.”

Ron nodded and licked his lips. He looked down but that only showed him Harry's crotch again. “Could you even try?”

“I'm not... I don't fancy you,” Harry explained awkwardly. “Or any men. You're like my brother and always my best friend. I thought that was how you felt about me, too.”  
“I guess I'll have to get used to feeling that way about you again, won't I?” Ron tried his best to stay calm.

“How long?” Harry asked. “How long since that's all I was to you?”  
“I dunno... I guess... it probably started about the time you pulled me out of a lake when I was fourteen.”  
“Fuck, Ron.” Harry gaped at him. “That long?”

Ron just nodded. Harry fell back to silence and Ron fell like he was suffocating. The shed suddenly seemed much tinier than it had before.

A massive crash of thunder from above made them both jump. Ron started to shiver and then backed away as rain started to hammer down on the flimsy shed roof.

“Wait, where are you going?” Harry asked, jumping off the worktop to chase Ron.  
“Away from your face. Anywhere. Away from you,” he blundered, before throwing himself out of the shed door.

***

“FUCK!” Ron screamed half-heartedly. “Fucking... bastarding... wanking... shitting... _fuck_.”

The rain was so cold it took his breath away. It was teeming down on him and he regretted not suggesting he add a little porch roof to the front door of Severus' house.

He didn't really know why he was there. The need to get away from Harry had been so compulsive that he'd just gripped his wand and gone anywhere. He made the journey to Severus' house purely because it was so drummed into his subconscious he did it without really thinking.

However, all the lights were off and the wizard wasn't answering the door. Ron had assumed he would have returned home when the rain started at The Burrow, but unless Severus was ignoring him, that wasn't the case.

“Come on,” he begged, smashing the flat of his fist into the door a few more times. “I just want...”

He didn't know what he wanted. To breathe properly, for the rain to stop getting in his mouth when he opened it to shout or take a breath. Finally defeated, he stepped back into the road and looked at the still house. He wondered if he could break in but knew how paranoid Severus was with his security charms. He'd likely end up in the hospital if he tried it.

_Well. A coma might be preferable, actually, so..._

Suddenly the living room blared into colour and Ron leapt forward, raising his sore hand to knock on the door again. That time it only took a few seconds before it was flung open.

“Where were you?” Severus asked furiously.  
“Here. Where were you?” Ron asked, taken aback.  
“Still at your parents', where everyone is worried sick about you. What were you thinking, taking off like that? They're too _raw_ for a stunt like that, Weasley, surely in your miniscule brain you can comprehend-”

Ron hadn't expected to be shouted at. He swayed slightly. “Severus... I...”

He couldn't get more words out, but knew he must have looked rough because Severus' expression suddenly softened and something dawned on him.

“Oh,” he said sadly, and stepped back with a sigh. “Come in.”

Ron sniffed as he stepped over the threshold and pointlessly wiped his feet on the mat. His clothes dripped over the carpet as he walked towards the living room.

“Here.” Severus pulled out his wand and dried Ron's clothes quickly, then pointed it at the fire and set flames alight there. “Sit.”

Ron did as he was told and took the blanket Severus handed him with numb surprise. “Thanks,” he murmured, wasting no time in wrapping it around his shoulders.

“And have this.” Severus pushed a glass of something amber coloured on him; Ron suspected whisky. He wasn't sure that was a good idea but gratefully raised it to his lips.

He watched with interest as he watched the older Wizard get down on his knees and throw some Floo powder in the flames. He only heard one side of the conversation.

“Molly, Ron's here. I found him on the doorstep... No, no, I think he best stay here for the night... No of course, it's no trouble whatsoever... Well I'm not sure, I think he's just a little shaken... No, no, there's absolutely no need to come and get him.”

Ron started to panic, shaking his head even though Severus couldn't see him.

“I promise I'll look after him,” Severus said forcefully. “And I'll send him home in the morning. Yes. Night, Molly.”

Severus let out a long exhale as he got slowly to his feet. “Your mother is...”

Ron shrugged apologetically. “Thanks for not letting her come here.”  
“Heaven forbid, I've had too much to drink for that.”

Finally Severus sat down next to him and let out a groan.

“Past your bed time,” Ron commented blandly.  
“I can't remember the last time I was out that late or had so much to drink. Your family are incorrigible.”  
“They're definitely something.” Ron sipped at his drink.

He closed his eyes for a bit and heard the sounds of Severus working his boots off.

“So. You told Harry then?” The question was tentative but kind.

Ron opened his eyes again and looked at the fire. “You knew?”

“You don't act as Head of House for hundreds of pupils, let alone dangle off the arm of a Dark Lord, without being able to tell when someone isn't telling you the obvious, Ron.” Severus paused. “Or, you know, just call it a hunch. Call it being able to read your face like a book. And not being bloody blind because he was the only person you had eyes for all night long.”

Nodding, Ron sipped his drink again. Something felt quintessentially wrong with the world, as though it had slipped off its axis and left him dangling. On top of that he was feeling decidedly nauseous and already felt the lickings of a hangover in his head.

“What's wrong with me?” he asked timidly. “It feels like the world's ending but I'm not... why aren't I...”  
“Weeping and wailing and crying your misery out to the world?”  
“Yeah.” Ron nodded.

“Perhaps it'll come. Perhaps you'll just keep it all bottled up and let it eat you alive. I can't advocate the latter, mind.”  
“What do I do now? He... he said he didn't love me back. Wasn't attracted to me. Only felt for me as a brother.”

Severus hesitated a moment and then said, “You sit there and drink your whisky and try to mend.”

Ron finally slumped backwards and nursed his whisky close to his chin. His throat was burning but he didn't think it had anything to do with the Ogden's.

“Really, Ron... this will be okay. It might not feel like it now, but the heart mends and time moves on.”

He was too fogged in the mind to react when a light hand touched his arm. He stared at the slim, pale fingers for a while and then, in a move he assumed he would attribute heavily to the booze and the drugs he'd consumed in the morning, he let himself fall to one side and put his head on Severus' shoulder.

Ron closed his eyes and waited for Severus to say something, to push him away or ask him to go home. All he did was seemingly hold his breath for some time before releasing it very, very quietly.

“S'is okay?” he murmured.  
“Yes.”

Ron was half asleep when an arm settled around his shoulders. It was nice – a warm weight which cradled him almost reverently.

“This sucks,” Ron heard himself whisper.  
“I know. I know, Ron.”

* * *

Ron grunted slightly as he stood on tiptoe to reach the very far corner of the room. Severus had offered him a ladder but Ron felt that would have been cheating. There was something satisfying about painting, he found, putting his back into it and really working.

It was late November and it felt like it had been raining solidly since Halloween. Ron huffed through his nose at the memory and reached up extra high.

Severus hadn't asked him to take it upon himself to decorate the house from top to bottom, by hand. Ron had done it willingly, glad of the distraction and the joy in finding ways to fix problems he'd not encountered before.

He only had the second bedroom he was in and the bathroom to go and then he would be finished and would need to find something else to do. He'd already started making designs on clearing the loft and, if it ever stopped raining, maybe decorating the outside of the house too.

His t-shirt had ridden up and was flapping uselessly around his chest. He really needed to get some new clothes. There was no need for him to roll around in the hand-me-downs which stuffed his chest of drawers. There had been monetary reparations after the war and he even had his own bank account.

_But you've been too busy being house elf to a fully grown man and moping after someone who doesn't love you back to bloody use any of it._

As it had taken to doing when he thought of Harry, Ron's chest tightened and he had to stop. The paint brush swung loosely in his hand.

“Finally. You've stopped. Will you just come and sit down for a minute?”

Severus' voice made him jump and Ron whirled round, sending a flick of paint over the carpet.

“Bollocks. Sorry.”  
“Forget it. Come and sit down. I've made tea.”  
“You've made _me_ tea?” Ron asked incredulously.  
“Well, don't shout about it, else I might never do it again.”

Severus turned his back on him and walked back downstairs. Ron balanced the paintbrush over the tin and followed, rubbing his hands on his jeans. Only when he was halfway down the stairs did he realise how strong the paint fumes had been.

“Where are you?” he called, catching sight of himself in the hallway mirror and seeing that he had paint flecks in his hair, on his face and over his shoulders.  
“Kitchen,” Severus responded.

Ron drifted along the hallway and stopped dead in the door when he saw the kitchen table.

“Er – what?”  
“Sit,” Severus instructed.

Ron sat. He was looking at an ornate chess board which didn't look as though it had seen much use. It was beautiful, however, and he couldn't resist picking up a pawn and looking at the craftsmanship.

“Tea,” Severus said, setting down two mugs and a pack of biscuits.  
“Is this yours?” Ron asked.  
“No. I stole it. Of course it's mine.”

Ron smiled to himself as he picked up his tea. “And why?”  
“You like chess. I also happen to like chess. You've been wound tighter than a spring for the last four weeks and though I am extremely impressed with the fact I'm living in basically a new house because of you, I think you could do with a bloody sit down.”

There was some force behind the words and Ron chose not to argue. Instead he just told one of his pawns to move and start the game.

They fell into an easy play, and Ron found that Severus moved quickly and cleverly, which didn't particularly surprise him.

“You're good,” Severus said after a while, raising his eyebrows.  
“You don't get fifty points for beating a giant chess set when you're twelve for nothing, you know.”  
“I suppose you don't. Twelve. Merlin, that seems like so long ago.”  
“A lot's happened since then,” Ron pointed out.

They played a little more.

“This is the longest I've seen you sit still for a month,” Severus commented airily.

Ron purposefully ignored him and made his move.

“You've not said much...” Severus went on.  
“Funny, I thought you let me keep coming round _because_ I can keep my mouth shut.”  
“No, I let you come here because you can make a decent cup of tea and nobody else is stupid enough to fill their days with my particular brand of bile.”

Unsure why, Ron felt his cheeks blush. “Well... I don't have much to say, to be honest.”  
“Or is it more that there's so much you don't know where to start?” Severus asked astutely.

Ron shrugged. “Maybe. But you wouldn't want to hear any of it, so why bother saying it? Why waste the energy?”

Severus looked directly at him. “As if it's more worthwhile keeping the breath in your lungs to keep putting one foot in front of the other?”  
“Yeah! Just that,” Ron agreed enthusiastically.  
“Hmm.”

Ron chewed on the inside of his cheek as he contemplated his next move. It could be the last if he played it right. With the emotion building in his chest again, ending the game sounded like a good idea. At least if he was upstairs painting Severus wouldn't see how upset he was.

“You little shit,” Severus breathed, as Ron pushed his chair back. “How did you do that?”  
“I'm good at chess.” Ron shrugged and stood up. “I'm going back upstairs.”  
“Ron-”  
“Bye,” he said pointedly, and walked away.

* * *

The last thing Ron wanted to do was spend the next two days in forced Christmas merriment. It would definitely be forced. He couldn't bear to be in the same room as Harry and Harry seemed to have taken the 'kill-him-with-kindness' route. He was so overly polite that Ron could have happily punched him in the nose.

He was enjoying a peaceful moment by the fire and the Christmas tree, looking at the sleeping faeries. There was noise elsewhere in the house but at that moment, he was alone. There was a pile of Christmas presents under the tree of which he'd never seen the like in his parents' home. Everywhere he looked there was evidence of his family's increasing fortune. Under Kingsley his dad had been promoted and the family had received money as Ron had. They'd also received a reparation for their one death, but none of them would touch that. If anybody's, it should have been George's, and they were all content to let it sit there like that, earning interest.

It looked like for the first time ever they were set to receive something other than homemade gifts for Christmas. There were still oddly shaped parcels which indicated knitted jumpers within and that made Ron smile. Jumpers were normal. Jumpers were family and comfort.

“There you are,” Hermione said, sticking her head in. “Been looking for you.”

Ron nodded and continued staring at the Christmas tree. Hermione drifted over to stand next to him.

“What's wrong?” She asked softly.  
“Nothing,” Ron lied.  
“Liar.”

He sighed and offered nothing further. He should have known better than to think she'd drop it.

“You've barely spoken a word since I've been here. Molly said you were quiet before that. What's going on, Ron?”  
“I'm fine... I just don't feel very... festive.” He shrugged. “And I don't get why everyone's going on as if this is a normal year, as if it's fine. It's not fine.”  
“I think people just want to pretend. As if they pretend to be happy, they'll actually be happy. They're hopeful and I don't think you can blame them for that.”

Ron thought on that for a moment. “I guess not. But it doesn't mean I have to pretend too.”  
“No.”

He held his breath as Hermione laced her fingers through his.

“I know I've not been entirely present, but if you ever wanted to talk about anything... you know where I am, Ron.”  
“You're in Scotland,” Ron muttered.  
“Are you ever going to forgive me for that?”  
“Nope. Not for years yet.”

Hermione let out a sigh.

“I miss you too, you know?” She nudged him with her shoulder. “Turns out, school is nowhere near as much fun without you and Harry there to infuriate me. Just doing my own homework doesn't have the same thrill to it. Who would've thought?”

Despite his furious mood, Ron couldn't help but laugh at that. “I knew you liked it really.”  
“Made me feel wanted, I suppose.”  
“You were always wanted, you daft cow.”  
“Well sometimes... sometimes it felt like you and Harry could have just carried on without me. Almost as if... you only needed each other.”

Ron swallowed. She was too close to the mark with it – there had been times when he'd been battling his emotions that he'd hoped for the very same thing. But then he'd felt the same way about Hermione as well.

“How did everything get so fucked up?” he said finally.  
“Life's... messy.” Hermione squeezed his hand.  
“Hermione-”

He was cut off by commotion in the kitchen and loud, happy voices wishing each other a Merry Christmas.

“You ready for this?” Hermione asked.  
“Nope.”

***

It had only been a few hours and his head was already thumping. Harry seemed to be following him around and therefore Ron made it his business to permanently escape him. He'd managed to score a seat at the opposite end of the table for the meal and had spent it relatively content stuffing himself and drinking happily.

They were currently in a post-meal slump, however, and that was traditionally the time for conversations. He didn't want any of those.

It was okay though – Ron had a card to play and as far as he was concerned, it was a blinder.

He lingered in the finally empty kitchen for a while longer before slipping back to the full living room, where there were bodies everywhere.

“Hey, mum...” He bent over the back of the sofa to whisper in her ear. “I've just had a message from Severus. He asked me to nip round. Think he's a bit lonely.”  
“Of course!” She bounded to her feet and headed for the kitchen, where Ron followed her. “You can take some leftovers round. I'm sure he's not bothered to cook himself a proper dinner. It _is_ a big fuss for just yourself. I wish he'd've come here.”

Ron had thought that too, but as he stood there on the brink of escape, he was truly grateful that Severus couldn't face the thought of Christmas Day with the Weasleys.

“Be careful as you go through the Floo,” she instructed, handing him the wrapped plates. “Do you want to take some pudding too?”  
“Nah, he's got loads from that lot I took round the other day. He has his own Christmas Pudding.”  
“Don't overheat the custard,” she advised.

Ron let her stand on tiptoe to kiss him on the cheek. 

“Enjoy the peace and quiet,” she whispered conspiratorially. “I'm a tiny bit jealous.”

Giving her a wide grin, Ron turned for the fireplace and groped for some Floo powder. He clung hard to the plates as he travelled, because he was sure that he was going to enjoy it much more when he didn't have to look at Harry when he was eating it.

Landing at the other end, he stepped onto the hearth with his precious cargo intact.

“Uh, Merry Christmas?” Severus said with surprise.  
“Sorry. I should have messaged, but...” Ron kicked soot off his trainers.  
“You've just used me to get out of spending Christmas with Harry, didn't you?!” Severus asked indignantly.

“No,” Ron lied emphatically. “I was worried about you being here all by yourself and thought I'd bring you some dinner.” He waved the plates. “And my mum's Christmas dinner is not something to turn your overlarge nose up at.”  
“Overlarge? Ouch.”  
“It was the politest word I could think of,” Ron explained, heading for the kitchen.

Severus was laughing when he caught up with him. Ron set the plates side by side on the worktop and then stretched his arms up over his head. Something crunched in his back.

“You're too young to be making noises like that,” Severus advised.  
“Too long here being your bloody slave more like,” Ron grumped.

The dark, rich laugh came again. Ron was surprised to find that it actually made him feel better; that it lifted something within him.

“So. Having a merry yuletide, then?”

Ron laughed himself at that.

“Thank you for coming. The food. I have to confess... it was getting lonely. All my Christmases since I started teaching have been spent at Hogwarts. And I moaned about it every single blasted year and now I find myself missing it, like a mawkish lunatic.”  
“A what now?” Ron asked.

Severus sighed and shook his head. “Do you have room for this now? Or do you want to wait?”  
“Have you eaten at all today?” Ron asked knowingly.

The older wizard did at least have the good grace to look ashamed of himself.

“Severus, for Godric's sake. You have to eat. Otherwise you'll never get rid of me.”

He waited for him to respond, but nothing came.

“So we eat now,” he decided, and started ripping off the covering on the plates.

His mother had been indecently generous with the portion. By the time he'd reached the end, Ron would estimate that he'd be on his fourth round.

“Christ alive. Your mother doesn't muck around, does she?”  
“Not when it comes to Christmas dinner, nope.” Ron grinned. “Sit. Prepare yourself. This is a momentous occasion, your first Molly Weasley feast.”  
“She's kept me alive since May.”  
“Yeah but this is an official feast. Proper, like.”  
“You're a strange boy, Ron.”  
“Like I've not heard that before.”

***

“Yes!” Ron crowed, slapping his hands together and drawing his knees up to his chest where he sat. “What's that, six - nil?”  
“Gryffindors are always so unbearably smug.”

Ron smiled as he reached for his drink. “Bloody hell, when did it get dark?”  
“Probably around the same time you threw me under the metaphorical bus in this game.”  
“Not my fault if you aren't awake enough, old man.”

There was a hiss of dislike and Ron laughed.

“Such a sore loser.”  
“If you say so, Weasley.”  
“Back to last names again? So petty.”  
“Well, yes, I thought you would have learnt that by now. Look. Are you planning on going home at any point in the immediate future?”

Ron sniffed and downed the rest of his drink. “Nope. Problem?”  
“I suppose not.”

***

Ron winced as the room took an ungainly lurch; it concerned him because he was sitting completely still on the sofa. He knew why – between them they'd managed to chuck back nearly an entire bottle of special edition Ogden's, which Severus had received as a Christmas gift.

The man himself suddenly let out a huge yawn on the other side of the chess board and Ron looked up. The outline of the older wizard was a tad blurry.

“Past your bedtime,” Ron teased, raising his arms up above his head in a long, satisfying stretch.  
“Oh, shut up, you insufferable little cunt.”

Ron couldn't keep his laughter in. Throughout the night as they had grown steadily drunker, both had lost inhibitions around the other. Severus' language seemed to delve deep into filth when he was three sheets to the wind and Ron was enjoying it.

“Don't laugh at me! Christ. I can't see straight.”

Laughing harder, Ron heard himself give a loud, uncontrolled snort and then hid his face in shame. Snort-laughter was not something he'd ever thought to be sharing with Severus Snape. When his mirth eventually petered out, he slumped slightly and sniffed.

“I don't want to go home.” The thought was exceedingly depressing though he did feel a little guilty that he hadn't missed his family at all on Christmas Day.  
“Then don't,” Severus said with a shrug.  
“Sure, thanks. I just _love_ sleeping on the floor.” Ron rolled his eyes.

Severus opened his mouth and then closed it again, as if thinking better of his words. Ron didn't understand that, because they'd been startlingly open with each other over the course of the day. It didn't make sense that Severus would suddenly hold back.

“What?” He probed softly.

Severus waved him off and with great effort, heaved himself to standing. For the first time Ron felt concerned about the amount of alcohol he'd let the wizard consume as Severus staggered, catching his shins on the table they used to play chess in the living room. It might have been his own skewed perception, but Ron thought he was going to fall. He jumped up and steadied him, bracing his hands against Severus' shoulders.

He couldn't help but giggle as Severus started to chuckle at his own inability to stand.

“I think I should put you to bed,” Ron advised. “Or at least make sure you get up the stairs properly.”  
“That would be wise,” Severus said, clearly trying to keep his composure and failing.

It wasn't hard to steer the man's slight frame out of the sitting room and up the stairs. Despite his prior wobbliness, Severus remained sure-footed on the stairs and made it to the top safely.

Even though there was no need, Ron followed him up into the bedroom – recently decorated into cheerful calm by his own fair hand – and made sure the candles were lit.

“Right. S'pose I'd best face the music and fuck off home then,” he said, clearly hearing the bitterness in his own tone.

“You don't have to go,” Severus said, turning to him.

Perhaps if Ron hadn't been as drunk as he was, he would have seen the softness in the other man's expression – it might have given him just a tiny inkling of what was coming.

As it was, when Severus' arms suddenly came up around him and pulled him close, he gasped in almost comical shock and froze. Warm hands slid up his arms and smoothed over his shoulders, which felt heavenly. Ron dropped them immediately, not really having noticed how much tension he was carrying there.

Severus' hands continued down his back and then settled on his waist, gripping tightly. Ron felt the shock starting to dissipate and found it replaced with something he'd only ever felt a few times before in his life – sexual attraction invoked by the touch of another. The room started to spin again as he stood there, huddled into the front of the wizard who he'd played house elf to for months, and one whom Ron had never considered as anything before.

He idly wondered if that made him a terrible person: Severus Snape had been a villain for the majority of his school years and post-war he had just been another thing to cope with, another thing to put effort into because it was expected of him. He had never taken a moment to really look at him, to examine the leftover prejudices and spoken cruelties he'd formed in his mind.

He was certainly revisiting them as he stood there, being held, feeling alive, wanting to act but unsure of how to proceed.

Ron had experienced sexual desires before, but despite loving Harry so hard he'd never acted on them with another man. He'd barely managed it with a woman. Anxiety crept through him, tightening his throat and bringing colour to his cheeks.

It was a blessed relief, therefore, when Severus closed the distance between them and kissed him gently on the lips. Ron finally felt confident enough to respond to that and opened his mouth. He met Severus' tongue with his own and moaned when fingertips sank into his hair.

Ron couldn't believe how overwhelmingly cared for he felt at that moment. Maybe even loved.

He tipped his head to one side for a better angle and wondered what the strange whimpering noise he could hear was. Only when Severus squeezed him tightly and the sound pitched higher did Ron realise that it was him.

Eventually Severus' breath grew ragged and he broke contact. Fear immediately filled Ron that he'd be pushed away and sent home, so he decided to do some clutching of his own. He locked his hands at the small of the other wizard's back and rested their foreheads together.

“You okay?” he whispered.  
“I think it's supposed to be me asking you that...” Severus searched his eyes then. “We... there's so much more we can do. So much we can give one another. You have no idea...”  
“Show me.” Ron sought out his own kiss then, feeling inordinately pleased when Severus gave him one back.

It didn't last long, however, before Ron felt his centre of gravity lurch and Severus had somehow shoved him onto his back on the bed. Severus was slight and had barely any meat on his bones, but when he crawled up over Ron's body and pinned him to the mattress, he felt deliciously heavy.

They were kissing again before Ron had time to register anything else. He rolled his hips experimentally and groaned at the pleasure which followed.

“Such a vocal little thing,” Severus whispered hotly in his ear, before kissing down the side of his neck and onto his throat.

Ron was in no place to deny it as he cried out to the ceiling. His pulse was in his ears, in his eyes; he couldn't escape the constant, fast drum of his blood and the smell of the older man on top of him.

“Fuck...” He panted at the ceiling and let his eyes close as Severus started to kiss down his chest, over his belly and then nuzzled his crotch. “Nnnnngh.” Ron made fists in the duvet while he moaned and squirmed slightly.

He was in completely new territory and it felt fantastic.

Something about the move seemed to remind Severus of the same fact and Ron protested with a whine as he suddenly sat up. Ron propped himself up on his elbows and waited, presuming the brush off was coming.

“Ron...”  
“Yeah?”  
“Are you sure?” Severus asked.  
“Sure.”  
“Are you absolutely positive, because-”

Ron didn't have the brainpower to get into a conversation about it and he was drunk enough to have the confidence to just throw himself headfirst into the situation. Which was what he did. He caught Severus off guard and reversed their positions. Power trickled down through his arms as he grabbed Severus' hands and pressed them into the bed on either side of his head. He bent his head and kissed him as well as starting to experimentally rock his hips.

“Your legs are... so, so long...” Severus breathed. “You go on forever.”  
“Erm... thanks?” Ron said, feeling colour rush to his cheeks.  
“And you blush so prettily.”  
“Stop it,” Ron huffed. “Stop picking on me.”  
“I'm not picking on you, we're not five!”

Ron laughed as Severus fought against his hold and managed to sit up. The kiss they shared was decidedly messier than any they'd had and Ron felt the pressure in his crotch growing with each passing second.

“May I?”

He jerked out of his thoughts and saw Severus' hand hovering over the button of his jeans.

“Oh, yeah, of course. In fact...” Ron undid them himself and wriggled them down his thighs.

He kicked them unceremoniously on the floor and then let his legs fall wide. Severus' hands immediately touched to his thighs and began to slide up them, with firm thumbs gliding over the copper hairs coating his pale skin.

 _In for a penny..._ Ron yanked off his t-shirt and flung it over Severus' head. Only his clingy trunks covered his modesty. It felt oddly liberating, and from the widening of dark eyes that were looking over him hungrily, it was appreciated.

 _He_ was being appreciated.

Severus' head ducked and mouthed over his cock, tonguing him through the fabric. Ron was unable to catch himself as he started with shock at the dampness, and fell down on his back.

His mind was a mess – the room was spinning, Severus' mouth was doing marvellous things and all Ron could do was lie there and gasp in delight at the ceiling. He thought he should be talking more, trying to put across intelligent conversation or at the very least thanking Severus for what he was doing.

But coherent speech wasn't going to happen. Nothing was, except for him lying there moaning like a Knockturn Whore.

“Fuck!” He cried, as lips fell onto his bare skin, over the damp head of his cock.

As Severus' tongue curled over him, Ron felt a spike of pleasure as the other man moaned at the taste of him.

“So excitable,” Severus commented, before trailing his tongue up the length of the wood in front of his face. “I bet I could make you scream without too much more effort.”

Ron wasn't going to argue with that. Perhaps when he was no longer drunk he'd feel shame about just how much noise he was making – but it felt _good_ , and he hadn't felt that for some time.

“Roll over onto your front...” Severus coaxed, sitting up again and putting his hands to Ron's hips.  
“Will I like it?” Ron tried to flirt and wasn't sure how well he managed it.  
“You'll fucking adore it, I promise you,” Severus said.

Doing as he was bid, Ron rolled over and stretched out, bringing a pillow down from the head of the bed to rest on. He held his breath as his bum cheeks parted and he was exposed.

“Relax,” Severus instructed. “Just relax, Ron.”

He'd never shown himself so brazenly to anyone before – that was why his nerves were suddenly jangling again and his stomach ached. Again, he'd thought of Harry in such a way before, but had never reversed it – never thought what it would be like to have another man touch him and look down on him sexually. He was a scrawny, too-tall idiot, and he wanted to hide.

“If I told you that you were beautiful, would you listen to me?” Severus asked.  
“No,” Ron squeaked honestly, and stuffed his face into the pillow.  
“Hmm...”

Ron started as something wet and warm swiped over his hole. “What the fuck? Severus, that can't be n-nice.” His breath hitched as the muscle pressed in slightly, testing the strength of his ring. _”Severus!”_

The older wizard simply ignored him and continued what he was doing, lengthening the licks and allowing his tongue to become more persistent as it pushed against Ron. Unable to help himself, Ron started to rub himself on the mattress, humping it desperately to find more friction and pleasure.

When Severus' hands pulled him up onto his knees he let them, glad of the fact that his sweaty, mortified face was allowed to remain hidden on the bed. With better access Severus licked harder and began to massage his sac.

“I'm gonna...”

They both knew exactly what he was going to do, so he didn't know why on earth he said it, but he felt he had to give some warning as Severus' tongue slipped fully inside of him for the first time. The thin lips which Ron had seen twist with spite so many times formed a tight ring around his entrance. The grip on his balls grew tighter and less delicate, pulling and tugging them in a way which, had he not been in the heat of the moment, might have been too painful for enjoyment. As it was, however, it felt perfect, the rolling movement complementing the rolling of Severus' clever tongue just so.

Biting into the softness cushioning his face, Ron reached back with his free hand and used it to stroke himself. He knew he'd never been that hard before, not even when he'd purloined a fantasy potion from the twins' stock. 

It was delicious but too much, he realised, as everything tightened and he grew dizzier.

“Gonna...” He didn't finish the sentence with a word, more a guttural groan as he gave himself over to the inevitable, the bone-melting orgasm which ripped through him from the balls up.

He was howling into the pillow he was still biting when suddenly he felt like jelly all over. He had no more energy to keep himself on his knees and he landed painfully on top of his spent dick with a whimper of pain.

“Ron?” Severus' voice was as soft as the kisses over his back which followed. “Are you all right?”  
“Fuck yes,” he breathed. “Oh gods, yes.”

More kisses came on the small of his back, up his spine and over his shoulders, as though the person delivering them was determined to press affection into him with his lips alone. Ron immediately mourned them when they disappeared. The room dimmed and then Severus was there, holding him tightly, somehow managing to get them both under the duvet without too much effort.

Ron was shattered and drunk, but he didn't feel right that what they'd shared had been one-sided. That he'd received all and given none. To that end he crept one hand in between them, seeking out the other man's crotch.

“Ron... with the best will in the world, I don't think we'll make it any further tonight. Let's just go to sleep.”

He peered through the semi-darkness to Severus' face, finding him obviously tired and a little pale.

_Selfish idiot. Look what you've done to him._

“Sleep,” Severus whispered, and kissed him on the forehead.

***

“What on earth is all that noise?”

Confused, Ron forced his eyes open and instantly groaned. The room wasn't even that bright but it hurt his eyes. He blinked dumbly at the ceiling before the realisation set in that he had absolutely no idea where he was. Or who was talking to him.

The bed shifted and there was a huge grunt next to him. Ron watched as Severus sat up and rubbed pitifully at his head.

“Hi,” he said gently, reaching out to trail the backs of his fingertips down his bedmate's side.

“Did you hear all that racket?” Severus asked, his voice a special kind of gravelly which spoke of interrupted deep sleep. Ron hadn't heard it since the first days after the battle, when he'd regularly had to wake Severus up to give medicine.

“I think there's a possibility that might be in your head,” Ron suggested. “There's a sort of numb ringing in mine.”

There was another grunt and the bed moved again as Severus slowly eased from it. When Ron looked at him he was only in his underwear, standing pale and scarred in the dim light of the pulled curtains. His hair was a beautiful mess, standing up in all directions and decidedly fluffy.

He shuffled out of sight and Ron assumed that was to go to the toilet. He reached up and wiped the sleep crusts out of his eyes. He focussed on assessing his state of being. He didn't feel sick, which was a definite improvement on his last hangover, but he did feel somewhat delicate. His mouth was parched and his lips felt sore and chapped.

_There was a lot of kissing... so much kissing... and-_

Ron was glad that Severus was not there to see him burying his face in his fingers as he remembered what they'd done the night before. The noise he'd made. The mess he'd made. Not to mention the fact that he was still there, surely completely overstaying his welcome. The toilet flushed and he heard footsteps on the landing, and then Severus was there again, wearing an odd expression. Ron chose to stay silent as he crossed the room and pulled the curtains open a little. Weak winter sunlight illuminated him where he stood.

He really was ridiculously thin. Ron could make out his ribs and the nubs of his spine, and his flesh seemed to harbour no fat or muscle beneath it. There must have been, however, because Ron remembered the way he'd been manhandled at times during the night before.

“Didn't your mother ever teach you it was rude to stare?” Severus asked, looking over his shoulder.  
“Ugh. Don't mention my mother right now.”

Ron smiled and pushed himself to sitting. Severus' arms folded protectively over his own chest as he neared the bed again, and sat down next to Ron's legs. Again unable to keep from touching, Ron tucked some hair behind Severus' ear. The response was a shiver and Severus turned his face to the side to kiss what he could of the fingers near his face.

“So...” he said, sounding fearful.  
“Well my first question is 'when can we do that again?'” Ron grinned at him.  
“You want to do it again?” Severus' eyebrows shot up.  
“And you have the cheek to call me thick.”

He leant forward and pressed a kiss into Severus' naked shoulder. It felt so easy and right to be intimate with him. All of those tiny little notions of affection he'd imagined showering Harry with – they were easy to transfer to another being.

However, silence dragged on and he looked down at his lap. “You... do you want to it again?”  
“There are definitely worse ways to spend my time.”

Ron was too tired for sarcasm. “Should I be offended by that and get the hell out, or stay put?” he asked bluntly.

Severus kissed him in response. Ron assumed that meant 'stay put', which he was happy to do.

He still felt guilty about the one-sided nature of the evening before and to that end he grew bold. He reached out and cupped Severus in his hand. It felt ridiculously empowering to be touching another man like that, so intimately, especially one as powerful as Severus Snape.

Ron glanced up, eager to check how his bravery was being received. Severus had closed his eyes and tipped his head back slightly. Ron slipped from the bed and sank down in between Severus' legs, where he leant forward and mouthed over what he'd been stroking.

“Are you-”  
“Uh-huh,” he whispered breathily into the fabric of the other man's underwear.

After that he wasted no time; he pulled it out of the way and took a moment to look at what he'd uncovered. He liked the dark, coarse curls over pale skin.

Severus' hand touched the back of his head and guided him forward – Ron didn't mind but at the same time wanted to look a little longer. However, when it came to it, he happily opened his mouth and took the tip inside. Severus' breath grew heavier the longer he stayed there, so Ron loosened his jaw and took more in.

It was surprisingly calming, he found, to be on his knees in front of another man with his mouth full of cock. He liked it. The taste was odd but not disgusting, and he liked the way he could bring out a gasp or a moan just by moving his tongue a little. He curled his fingers around dark-peppered calves on either side of him and squeezed before taking yet more of Severus into his mouth.

Gently, the hand in his hair gripped and started to bob his head for him, slowly, allowing him time to grow used to the new movement. After a while it sped up and Ron took the momentum for himself.

He couldn't help it as he looked up – he didn't expect Severus to have been watching him so closely. As their eyes met he saw something give in the older wizard's countenance and that was it. His mouth suddenly flooded with yet another new taste and texture and Ron choked slightly, pulling back and releasing his mouthful without really meaning to. The end of Severus' orgasm caught him across the chin instead.

Ron found himself frozen to the carpet, kneeling between Severus' legs, his lips sore and stinging from the work and the come.

“Here.” Severus summoned a box of tissues. “Spit. I will absolutely not be offended. It's not for everyone.”

Ron gratefully took one and did as instructed, then used another to wipe his chin clean.

“It was just a bit of a shock,” he said shyly.  
“Well what did you think was going to come out of there?” Severus asked, a smirk playing about his mouth.  
“Shut up,” Ron muttered, finding himself grinning and blushing with embarrassment. “I just hadn't-”

Severus cut him off. “I know.”

Ron stayed still as the wizard bent forward and pressed a kiss to the top of his head.

* * *

Ron winced as he messily scraped icing over the cake he'd made, thinking it looked more like a three-year-old's first attempt rather than that of someone his age. He'd hoped that the thick buttercream would at least cover some of the lumps in the sponge, but in reality they just made the bumps bigger and more noticeable.

“Ah, fuck it.” He sighed and looked down at his creation.  
“Don't give up your day job,” Charlie advised, suddenly at his side also looking down at the cake.  
“I know, it's rubbish.” Ron laughed. “But hey. I tried.”

Charlie hummed in agreement and said, “That you did. Can I have the icing bowl now?”  
“Don't blame me when you make yourself sick,” Ron said firmly, and handed it over.  
“Ooh, yes mum,” Charlie retorted.

He retreated to the kitchen table whilst Ron stuck two fingers up at him.

Ron methodically started to clear up the shitstorm he'd made of the kitchen, very glad of having a magic wand to do the majority of it for him. Manually cleaning was only satisfying in Severus' house, it seemed.

At the thought of Severus his pulse kicked up a notch and Ron absent-mindedly started to twist a tea towel in his fingers.

He'd been to see Severus a few times since Christmas day. It had been a little awkward at first but then he'd just eased himself back into the decorating and they were closer than they had been before. They'd not done anything again but there had been embraces and kisses. Ron didn't want to push – he was waiting for Severus to crack at any minute and refuse to see him ever again.

Ron didn't want to admit that if he experienced another rejection the recovery period would be extremely ugly.

But that day he was going to Manchester with a purpose – it was Severus' thirty-ninth birthday and Ron was taking the poor excuse of a cake, another bottle of the Ogden's which had led them to their mischief on Christmas night and he was seeking more of the same.

“Christ, you're showing that thing a good time, aren't you?” Charlie laughed, nodding towards him.

Ron glanced down and realised that the tea towel was all screwed up in his fists.

“Oh. Yeah.” He sheepishly chucked it on the worktop.  
“Something's got you all het up, hasn't it? Lit a fire under your arse.”  
“No,” Ron lied. “I'm fine.”

He found himself blushing under Charlie's stare. From the intensity of it, he began to suspect that his brother knew more than Ron had hoped.

“Just be careful. You don't know your limits. And right now everything is too raw for you to be wading into somebody else's. We're all damaged, Ron, even those of us who are pretending we're fine.”

Ron absolutely understood Charlie's point. Every one of them was battling demons which they likely didn't want to air to others.

But the reality of marrying that up against the hormones surging within him seemed impossible. He wanted to feel good. Severus had made him feel safe and wanted. He craved to feel that again.

Plus, after everything, he didn't feel as though he could just walk away from the wizard. He knew if he didn't visit, Severus likely wouldn't speak to anyone from week to week – a part of Ron thought he deserved more than that, with someone willing to try.

Ron levitated his messy cake into the waiting plastic box and pressed the lid down on it.

“Noted,” he said finally, given that Charlie was still standing there.  
“And you know where I am?”  
“Yup.”

Ron was glad of the privacy as he turned away to slip his coat on. Charlie was still staring at him.

He picked up his bag and the cake box and opened the back door. “See you later,” he said, forcing brightness into his tone.

***

“I'd hoped you'd forget,” Severus said morosely.

Ron rolled his eyes. “My mother forgets nothing, you realise? Here.” He handed over the poorly wrapped bottle of Firewhisky and a card from his whole family. “Happy Birthday.”

Severus winced when he said it.

“I'm sensing you don't like birthdays,” Ron teased.  
“I bloody hate birthdays,” Severus corrected, but did open the card and present with something that looked vaguely like pleasure. “The last time anybody gave me a birthday gift was the year my mother died. Unless you count Albus' attempts at gift giving. He never did quite understand that not everybody had the same flamboyant taste in socks as he did.”

The older wizard sighed and stood the card up on the coffee table.

“I thought I should replace the first bottle,” Ron said. “After the way of it...”  
“Thank you.”  
“And I made you a cake. It's pretty shit, but it should at least be edible.”

Ron pried off the top of the box and held it out for inspection.

“You made this?” Severus asked, his voice soft and obviously touched.  
“Yeah.” Ron made a face. “Well, I tried.”

He was rewarded with a rare smile and that made him feel like he was a millionaire.

“What do you want to do today?” he asked, turning for the kitchen.

He put the cake down and shrugged back out of his coat, leaving it hanging it on the back of one of the kitchen table chairs.

Severus didn't follow him into the kitchen for some time. Ron was nearly at the end of making tea before he appeared in the doorway, looking pale and sullen.

“You're staying then?” he asked.  
“Uh... yeah. I was going to...” Ron walked up to him and touched his hands to his waist. “Unless you don't want company, in which case I'll fuck off out of your hair.”

There was silence between them, and both knew that if Severus did say 'leave', Ron would not handle that well.

“No, stay. Stay with me,” Severus responded finally, wrapping his arms around Ron's own waist and pulling him close. “I want you to be here.”

Ron took the opportunity to initiate a kiss, which was slow and sensual and freely given. When he slid one hand south over the petite but firm backside he now knew Severus to possess, the wizard stepped away.

“Let's cut that cake, shall we?” Severus said, changing the subject and mood in one fell swoop.

Lingering where he stood, Ron didn't want to analyse the feelings of bitterness and worry which were coursing through him. 

“Yeah,” he said faintly, and returned to the tea.

***

The day had passed peacefully and darkness had fallen outside. Ron was sat on Severus' sofa, getting a headache from the glare of the fire. It was the only source of light in the room but he didn't want to disturb the sleeping man in his lap. Severus' dark head had somehow ended up there and Ron couldn't deny he was pleased as punch about it.

He almost felt honoured.

In the early days, and some not-too-long-ago days, Severus had been unable to stand being asleep with others around him, to the point where sedation was necessary. Everyone understood why the ex-spy would loathe losing control around people he didn't know, but that didn't mean they could pander to it. Ron had learned to take the withering glares and muttered curses when the wizard woke with a pinch of salt.

Therefore it felt somewhat momentous that Severus should be willingly sleeping with his head in Ron's lap, so freely peaceful.

It was nice sitting there quietly, with the weight of Severus' head on his thighs. Ron closed his and let his head drop back on the sofa.

***

When Ron surfaced again, the fire had grown low and the room was a lot dimmer. Severus was still asleep in the same position.

He smiled to himself as he reached out and stroked some strands of black hair from Severus' brow.

And then all hell broke loose.

Ron struggled without point; Severus' fingers closed around his throat like a tight vice which immediately made his eyes bulge. The thin wizard pinned him in place in the sofa, forcing his head back as his fingers slowly throttled Ron into a terrifying gagging noise which he didn't know he could make.

He couldn't get any words out and his fingers groped helplessly for his wand, which had rolled away to the other side of the sofa, previously buried under Severus' legs. All he could do was beg with his eyes, but Severus wasn't seeing them. His own were dark and gleaming.

Even whilst being choked to death, Ron could tell that Severus was not himself in that moment.

The room span and Ron could feel it, impending death, as he started to lose vision and what he had left was blurry and filled with violent little white sparks. He tried clawing at Severus' grip.

“Crucio.”

If Ron was screaming, he couldn't tell. All he knew was the completely mind-fogging sense of agony. He'd got through the war without being subjected to the Cruciatus, but had seen his loved ones under the spell of it. That had been enough.

He knew he'd severely underestimated, even through their screams, the pain that they were in. Severus had pulled his hands away to cast the wandless curse, so he was no longer being throttled, but his breath refused to come. He couldn't do anything but loll there and take it, screaming screams he couldn't hear.

As suddenly as the pain had come, it was gone, and Ron felt the brush of carpet against his cheek. He'd slid off the sofa and onto the floor. With barely-there wheezes, he opened his eyes. Severus was on his knees in front of him, wide-eyed and very much awake, looking horrified.

“Ron... what did I... oh god... _oh god_...”

Ron watched as Severus seemed to fold in on himself, falling backwards onto his bottom and drawing his legs and arms into his chest. He looked so impossibly small as he sat there, fracturing to pieces, and Ron wanted to help him – he truly did. But he barely had the energy to keep breathing, let alone perform any great feats of comfort.

As he lay there, Ron became steadily more and more aware of his surroundings. He could feel warm dampness in his groin and reached the mortifying conclusion that he'd wet himself somewhere along the way. There were no tears on his face, however, and Ron wondered just what, exactly, it would take to make him bawl his eyes out. Parts of his skin were crawling from contact with the carpet and it felt like his bad leg – the one that Sirius had broken – had twisted in a way which would not be pleasant on standing.

He could hear desperate, painful sobs elsewhere in the room, the only noise at all apart from the ringing in his head.

“Ron, you can't know how sorry I am,” Severus said through the darkness. “I never wanted you to see me like that. I didn't want to hurt you.”

Still winded with no possibility of recovering, Ron did the only thing he thought he could manage, and that was to fling his arm out in front of him hoping to make contact with his fingers. Severus' fingers snatched at his, clinging on tightly.

* * *

“And you're sure you want to do this, Mr Weasley?” one of the Aurors asked, yet again.  
“I'm sure.” Ron shrugged. The motion made his neck ache.

The outlines of Severus' fingers were still mapped onto his skin, though the bruises were finally fading.

They'd had maybe a few minutes more on the floor, desperately clinging on to each other's fingers, before the Aurors had kicked down the front door and swarmed in.

Unbeknownst to many, the Ministry had decided to put traces onto the Unforgivable Curses. It had happened during the war, but so many of the Death Eaters hadn't cared it had been pointless. Those used in the heat of the Battle had been pardoned – Ron remembered Harry's shame on recalling casting it himself.

But it was there and alarm bells rang in the Ministry as they tried to comfort one another best they could in Severus' dark living room. Ever since, Ron had been actively repeating the fact that it was a complete accident and not a pre-meditated attack in any way. The Aurors had seen that for themselves once they'd lit the room and seen the mess of the caster on the old carpet. Ron had been grateful when they actually listened to the wheezy words he managed to get out and from then on treated Severus with much more compassion.

That didn't mean that he wasn't in trouble, however.

And that was why Ron was sat in the Ministry, feeling miserable, getting ready to put quill to parchment on a completely voluntary statement. He hadn't seen Severus in the three weeks since the incident – he'd been too afraid to ask both the Healers and the Aurors, and Severus hadn't made any contact with him anyway.

Given the state of him Ron thought that was probably the best idea, what with the strangulation marks and pronounced limp from the re-breaking of his leg on coming off the sofa. Then there was the mental havoc that it had wreaked on him. Every night since, Ron had found himself tormented by the sorts of nightmares he assumed most of his friends and family had been feeling since the previous May. During the day he found himself trying to fend off panic attacks and more often than not he failed. As usual the panic chose to settle around his stomach, so he was either throwing up or glued to the toilet for best part of the day.

His family had been supportive but Ron had insisted on keeping the whole truth from them. As far as they were concerned, he and Severus had simply dozed off in the same room, on separate sofas. There was no need for them to know the intimacy that had been shared beforehand or, indeed, the little act of closeness which had set the whole thing off.

So they knew that Severus was unwell and had been diagnosed with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, but no more.

He'd requested that his statement only be viewed by those with an absolute need to know. That didn't include Harry.

“Well, here it is,” the witch from the legal services department said. “Just as you wrote it originally, but with better grammar and, you know, full-stops.” She smiled at him playfully but Ron couldn't muster one in response.

He took the quill offered and signed his name, then wasted no time in getting to his feet and drawing his cloak around him. He wanted to get out of the city as soon as possible.

It had all been reported in the Prophet, of course. **_'Ex-Death Eater Attacks War Hero.'_** It put a bad taste in his mouth whenever Ron thought of it.

Ron shook the hands of those around the table and then left, glad to see there were no reporters in the corridor. He made his way back along the Auror HQ floor, hoping that Harry was in a meeting somewhere and wouldn't want to see him or talk to him or do anything but avoid him.

What Ron was finding most hard to process and cope with was the guilt. It was eating him alive. He hadn't seen how ill Severus was, though when he looked the signs were there: the responses to certain types of stimulation, the desire to isolate himself, the moods, the sudden switch to rage at a moment's notice. Well hidden, but there.

All of which he had just put down to the wizard being a miserable old bastard.

Now that he knew it was more than that, Ron felt terrible, and more than anything he hated himself because he had taken advantage of Severus whilst in that state. He had blundered on in there with his problems and his stupid broken heart and ended up in the man's bed. He was too embarrassed to talk to anyone about it, especially Charlie, who had warned him not hours before it all went wrong.

He couldn't forgive himself for it, no matter how many times he had it out with himself in his mind.

Ron took the lift back to the Atrium, where he burrowed deeper into his cloak and bowed his head. People stared as he walked but they'd done that since the end of the battle – Ron was only just coming to realise how much he'd hidden himself away. He wasn't used to their stares or their whispers. It made him deeply uncomfortable.

He hurried through the noise to the Floo portals at the other end, knowing he wouldn't feel happy until he was locked in his bedroom, alone.

* * *

“I've made you your favourite for breakfast...”

Ron groaned and pressed the heels of his palms into his eyeballs. His mum wasn't taking 'no' for an answer.

“Ron, come on, sweetheart. It's not every day you turn nineteen.”  
“I don't care, Mum.”

There was a pause and he waited, flat out on his back in bed, half-naked. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had a shower, or risen before noon. He wasn't sleeping because the nightmares were so terrible, but then he ended up falling asleep anyway and waking up in a state regardless.

He jumped when the bed dipped next to his legs and he tore his hands away.

Though his mother had tried bribery, threats, yelling and more, she'd not crossed the threshold into his bedroom until then. She looked deeply concerned. Ron didn't blame her, he was concerned too.

“What's going on, love?” she asked eventually, giving him a tender look.

Ron opened his mouth to deny that anything at all was the matter, but he didn't see the point in lying.

“It's all just a bit shit, Mum.”  
“What in particular?” she asked. “What happened with Severus?”  
“That, and how... lost I feel. I don't know what to do.”  
“So you thought that marinating in a sheen of your own grime in bed was the best way to deal with those feelings?”  
“Just because I'm doing it a bit later than everybody else doesn't mean that I can't do it,” Ron pointed out. “Did you tell George to get in the shower and man up?”  
“That's not what I'm saying,” she said sadly. “Everyone has their way. And if it looked like this was doing you any bit of good then I'd gladly leave you to it and feed you your favourite treats and let you mope.”

Ron sat up with a groan. His neck still hurt and it had been weeks.

“I want to help you make it better. But you've tried your way, so let's try mine?”  
“And what's your way?” Ron mumbled.

“Well, you're going to come downstairs and eat the breakfast I've lovingly made for you, for starters.” She gave him a wink. “And then after that, I'm going to run you a big deep bath-” Ron opened his mouth to protest, but she went on, “ - Which I will magically enlarge so that every inch of you can get under the water because I know you don't like getting chilly. And then you're going to have a wash and get properly dressed. Then we're going to go out and I'm going to buy you what's likely the first shop-bought birthday present of your life, because I can finally do that for my children now the bloody war is done with.”

Ron raised his eyebrows in surprise.

“I'm not done,” she advised. “And later, after you've let me put you to sleep for a nice nap with Dreamless Sleep, you're going to come to the little party we've put together for you. Everyone will be there.”  
“I don't want to be around-” Ron wanted to say 'people', but in reality he just meant Harry.  
“I don't care,” Molly said, her voice finally turning stern. “You'll be there, and Ron, really, you'll find it helps. People. People have the ability to heal what's hurting inside of you. Ask me how I know – ask any of us. We'll all tell you that it was, for example, people like you – making continual cups of tea, looking after us, chatting about inane nonsense that got us through those days of dark grief.”

She sighed and reached out to brush his hair out of his face. Ron could tell what she was thinking from the critical narrowing of her eyes.

“Well, fine, but I'm definitely not having a haircut,” he gave in stubbornly.

***

Ron knew his mother was just trying her best – to try a different way of helping other than his own. And to some extent it had worked. He was clean and dressed and he felt more rested than he had for days. But otherwise he just felt like a stack of shit dressed up. His family were hurting his head and he wanted to slink off upstairs and be by himself, but he doubted they'd let him get away with that.

“You okay?”

Charlie appeared at his shoulder as Ron pretended to be interested in finding food at the table their mum had laid out.

“I'm grand,” Ron said dully.  
“Convincing.” Charlie snorted. He reached past Ron for a homemade cheese and onion roll. “So. Nineteen. I remember being nineteen...” he hummed happily and when Ron looked he found Charlie smiling. “My first year at the Reserve, and I was too young and too stupid to realise how shit my job actually was, because dragons, and I banged my way through that place and then banged my way back again.”

Ron surprised himself by laughing at that. “And mum always said you were a saint.”

“Fuck that, far too boring.” Charlie finally put the pastry in his mouth and chewed for a bit. “Good times though. And now I'm closer to thirty and I couldn't handle a fivesome if I tried. I'd need a nap halfway through.”  
“You're not that old.”  
“No, but you frequently sleep on a freezing cold forest floor for over five years, your hips can't take an orgy any more.”  
“Why are you saying these things to me?” Ron asked incredulously. “How much have you had to drink?”  
“I'm just... trying to break the ice.” Charlie shrugged. “You've been so...”

Ron didn't bother asking him to elaborate. He knew what Charlie was saying.

“And I figured if you wanted to talk to me about any... stuff... then I needed to let you know that it was okay. To talk about that stuff. Because I don't know if you... fuck. This is awkward.”  
“Yeah, it is,” Ron said, but did manage a smile. “Thanks though.”  
“I'm going to go and see if I can ruin anyone else's night. Mum doesn't know about some tattoos. I can tell Percy it was me that set fire to his toy broom when he was seven and not the twins as I originally blamed. I can end this night truly on fire!”

Ron watched him amble off and then shook his head.

“Hey, you got a sec?” Harry asked, appearing from nowhere.

He motioned for Ron to follow him which, as always, Ron found himself doing without question. Harry led him out of the back door. Ron hoped to Godric they weren't going back to his dad's shed.

“Happy Birthday,” Harry said eventually. “I... I don't think I've had a chance to say it to you on your own.”  
“Thanks.”  
“I got you something, but it's not much. Didn't know what to get you, probably for the first time since we were eleven.”  
“You didn't have to get me anything.”  
“I wanted to.”  
“Well... thanks then,” Ron said awkwardly.

He realised with a surge of panic in his belly that it was the longest amount of time that he had spent alone with Harry since Halloween.

“So... shall we go back in?” Ron suggested, as a shiver passed down his spine.  
“Well... I do have something else for you. But I'm not sure if you want it, or if it will help...”  
“What is it, Harry?”  
“Severus asked me to give this to you.”

Harry held out a letter. Ron stared down at it.

“I don't know if I want it,” he admitted.

Harry's hand immediately began to retract but Ron reached out and snatched hold of his wrist. At the skin-to-skin contact, something started to hurt in his chest.

And in a second, he felt worse than at any point thus far. He felt disgusted with himself because in reality he hadn't healed at all. Ron still felt _that_ pull towards Harry, felt that the other man would soothe him beyond all else.

_So what was Severus? A distraction. A shag? Fucking Merlin you're pathetic._

“Ron?” Harry probed, but he sounded far away.  
“Harry, do you ever have those moments...” Ron swallowed hard on a hot throat. “Where you realise that you're a total dick, and that all the time you've been thinking you were being strong and mature, you were nothing but an idiot? A small and insignificant idiot who just...” 

He stared into the garden but didn't really focus on it.

“Ron-”  
“Thanks for this.” Ron whipped the letter out of Harry's fingers before he could jerk it away. “I've got to go.”  
“Go where?” Harry called as Ron started to walk away.

Ron didn't answer him.

“You'll freeze, you haven't got a coat!” Harry sounded closer and Ron pulled out his wand before he could be caught.

He landed hard and staggered slightly. It was windier than at the Burrow, but then it was closer to the coast and he was on top of a massive hill. He'd found the castle when he left Harry and Hermione on the Horcrux hunt, and he'd not returned since. It seemed fitting that he would go back there then.

Ron slouched up another incline to a part of the old castle wall where he knew there would be shelter. It was still cold but at least he was out of the buffeting wind there, and he threw himself down in the corner. He closed his eyes and tipped his head back onto the centuries-old stone.

His fingers gripped the envelope Harry had handed him and he still didn't know whether he should open it or not. He doubted there was anything that Severus could say to him in letter form that would chase away the self-hatred coursing through him, the sheer shame of what he had done, what he had dragged the other man into when he needed it least.

Decided, Ron folded the envelope up and stuffed it in his pocket.

***  
He didn't know how much time had passed – Ron found himself too exhausted to look at his watch. But he knew the cold had seeped into his bones and his lower jaw was chattering away, so it had to have been a fair amount of time. The wind had blown away the clouds in the sky leaving a perfect map of stars untouched by the rural location's lack of light pollution.

Any other time, it would have been a sight to take his breath away.

Ron jumped as he heard voices nearby. He flattened himself to the wall, as if that would help.

“He has to be here somewhere,” one voice said. “That location spell is dead on to about twenty metres.”  
“Do you not think he might be a bit cross when he finds out you've been tracking him?” A female voice asked wearily.

Ron screwed up his face. Harry and Hermione had found him.

“I don't care if he's cross or raging mad, the stupid pillock should know by now that you don't just go hounding off into the night like that! I mean seriously, after everything, he just thinks we'd let him go?”  
“He's been through a lot, Harry,” Hermione reminded.  
“We've all been through a lot!” Harry protested. “And fine, he might have repressed it where the rest of us let it out, but that's no excuse for terrifying the life out of all of us.”

Their bickering softened slightly and Ron strained to hear, hoping that they'd just miss his little corner of the castle completely, but soon they became stronger again and were accompanied by footsteps.

“Just... go easy is all I'm saying,” Hermione said. “He's always been emotional no matter how hard he tried hard to keep that secret a fact. He cares about stuff, Harry. About people.”  
“And we care about him.”

Ron winced as he was caught in a beam of wandlight.

“There you are, you bastard,” Harry cried furiously.

Ron held a hand up to shield his eyes from the blinding brightness. “Hey.”  
“He says 'hey',” Harry muttered bitterly, and threw himself down onto the ground next to Ron.

Hermione sighed and took her place on his other side. She drew her wand and conjured one of her amazing portable fires. Ron felt its warmth on his skin immediately.

“Here,” she said, unwinding her scarf from round her neck and shaking it out; it was large and more of a wrap, which Ron was grateful for as she layered it around his shoulders. “You're freezing.”

They sat in tense silence for a while, each looking at the floating ball of flames in front of them.

“Well this brings back memories,” Harry said dryly. “Freezing my arse off in total silence trying to think of something to say or do to make it better.”  
“Don't let it ever be said that we don't know how to have fun.” Hermione grinned at the pair of them.  
“All we need is the ever-present aroma of cats and we'll be right back in that tent,” Ron added with a snort.

Eventually he felt warm enough to proceed. “How'd you find me?” he asked.  
“After the whole thing with Severus... and how you changed... I just... put an insy-weensy little tracking charm on you,” Harry said, with the good grace to look slightly ashamed.  
“I told him not to,” Hermione whispered conspiratorially.  
“Well it served us well tonight, didn't it?” he shot back. “Are you angry?”

Ron shook his head. “Not particularly. In fact... I'm kind of surprised you cared enough to do it.”

Both of them gaped at him in dismay.

“You left me.” Ron shrugged. “I figured that kind of meant that we were... that things were different now.” He looked at Harry. “Especially after what happened on Halloween.” He switched to Hermione. “And after... well, everything.”

“We both asked you to come with us!” Hermione said, her voice the kind of high-pitched which told Ron that she was hurt by what he'd said. “I said 'come to Hogwarts' – you said you couldn't face being under someone's thumb again. Harry said 'come and work at the ministry' and you said you didn't feel ready!”  
“Did you want us to force you?” Harry asked incredulously.

Ron swallowed and licked at his already chapped lips. “No, I didn't but... I guess it just felt like you asked once. And when I said no neither of you did much to convince me. You didn't encourage me.”

He saw the aghast look that they shared.

“But that wasn't because we didn't care!” Harry pointed out.  
“We were respecting your wishes,” Hermione said softly. “We thought you knew what you wanted.”  
“When have I ever known that?” Ron laughed.

Again they shared a look – this one more confused than the last.

“If you look back...” Ron shook his head. “I took the same lessons as you, Harry. When you decided you wanted to be an Auror, that's what I wanted too. When you said you were leaving to go and fight, I knew I was coming with you, because I couldn't let you go alone.”

Ron hesitated, wondering how much he should say, but eventually settled on just going with the truth. “And now... what do I want? I want to feel whole again. Like I have a purpose and a life and like I'm going somewhere. But I've no clue which way is even up.”

“And where did Severus Snape come into all of this?” Hermione asked.  
“Well... you were both gone. He needed help and I gave it to him and what grew during that... it was... nice. But it's not the right time for me to be hanging around him like a stench. He's got to sort himself out.”

“And you've got to sort you out in the meantime,” Harry finished for him.

Ron nodded. “I've got to beat these fucking nightmares and the panic attacks. And just the general feeling of shittiness which happens every time I open my fucking eyes.”

The question of 'how?' hovered over them all and Ron was glad that neither of them rushed to fill the void with suggestions which would only have irritated him. They still knew that much of him.

“I'm sorry you thought we didn't care,” Hermione murmured finally. “Nothing could be further from the truth.”  
“Total opposite of the truth,” Harry chimed in. “And... if this all has anything to do with Halloween... I'm... I don't know what do with that. You surprised the shit out of me.”  
“What happened on Halloween?” Hermione asked, looking confusedly between them.

“Well-” Harry started, but Ron didn't want him to lie.  
“I told Harry that I was in love with him. And that I wanted something with him. But Harry doesn't feel the same way about me, and that's that.”

It was an odd sight to see Hermione sit with her mouth open, completely lost for words. It went on for so long that Harry and Ron were able to exchange a worried look. Eventually her jaw snapped shut and she sniffed.

“No wonder you're all jumbled up inside. You idiot. You could have told me, maybe then it wouldn't have been so awful for you.”

It was her matter-of-factness about it, her immediate understanding, which bowled Ron over the most.

He couldn't find any more words to put across what he was feeling. So in the end all he could say was, “Thanks for coming after me.”

* * *

It felt supremely odd to be standing on Severus' doorstep again, with late spring sunshine warming his back. It was nearly a year to the day to the first time he'd visited. The first anniversary of the battle was done and they were nearly in June.

He heard footsteps coming along the hallway and then the door opened.

Ron hadn't seen Severus at all since January. They'd conversed via letter once the Healers had considered it appropriate, but the man was finally home, and Ron needed to see him before he left.

“Ron.”

The immediate embrace which he found himself in took Ron's breath away. He held it as Severus hugged him hard, right there in broad daylight on the doorstep.

“I'm so glad to see you,” he whispered finally. “It's been so long.”  
“I know.”

Severus looked at him with a mixture of sadness and deep understanding. He gestured Ron into the house and closed the door behind him. Ron hesitated, having lost the confidence to just stride into Severus' house like he knew the place intimately – which, of course, he still did.

He sat where he was directed and was glad when Severus chose to sit close to him rather than on the other side of the room. He looked mostly unchanged, if a little wearier around the eyes.

“You've changed,” Severus said softly. “Aged in the months since we last saw one another.”  
“That's not surprising.” Ron made a face. “It's not been the easiest of times.”

He didn't protest when Severus reached for his hand and held it, making a bridge between them.

“I wanted to come and... I know I've said it, in the letters, but I wanted to say in person that they meant a lot... and what we shared at Christmas, that was really... um, special to me.” He blushed at his inadequacy with words.  
“It was to me also. It helped... to get through the darker months. There have been several since January.”  
“You can say that again.” Ron let out a low whistle. “How _are_ you? Did... time away help?”  
“I think infuriatingly only more time will tell that. I think it was all just too much, too fast... and trying to hide it didn't help.”

Ron nodded. “I'm sorry, for my part in that. I should never have put my problems on you. Should have known better.”  
“You've said you're sorry a thousand times, Ron, but it doesn't make any difference.”  
“Why not?”  
“Because I've never needed an apology from you. If anything, you should be clamouring for one from me. I allowed myself to indulge thoughts which did neither of us any good and then tried to kill you after imploring you to trust me, encouraging you to share something wholly private with me. I'm the villain here. Not you.”  
“But if I'd not been here all the time, not used you as my excuse to get out... get away from Harry...” Ron shook his head wryly. “Things would have been different.”

Severus thought on that for a moment. “Perhaps. But I'm not sure I would have wanted them to be, in all honesty. But now... now what? What do you want? Do you want to explore... more?”

Ron looked down at his lap. “Yeah, I'd like that. I really and truly would. But I think we both know that it wouldn't be the cleverest of ideas right now. There's a lot of... healing... I think that's the right word. There's a lot of healing to be done. By both of us.” He shrugged defeatedly.

Severus' disappointment was plain to see in his expression and Ron fought hard to keep the waves of self-loathing away.

“I can see why you'd think that. And you're probably right, but I won't lie and say that the thought of you, and what we could share, has not been in my mind very much over the past few months.”

“And don't think you've not been in mine, either.” Ron turned to him. “Because you have. I wanted to see you so much, and then they said they didn't think it was a good idea... and then I let myself get into this funk and couldn't get back out again. So I replied to the letter because it felt like all I could do.”

He shrugged helplessly. “I'm trying to figure everything out at the same time and my brain just can't keep up.” He took a deep breath. “I wanted to see you today because I wanted to tell you that I'm going away for a bit.”  
“What?” Severus asked, desperation cracking his voice.

“I've got the opportunity to go and spend some time at Uagadou.”  
“The school in Africa? Specialist in Wandless Magic?” Severus' eyebrows shot up in surprise. “That would be good for you, I've seen you work without your wand and you could be excellent with the right training.”

“Exactly.” Ron found himself grinning. “You're not the first one to say that, and then they reached out through the Ministry and it all fell into place. I mean, I'm not sure how I'm going to cope with the sun, because I'll just burn to buggery, but it's pretty cool.”

Severus nodded, his expression sad but resigned. “And what then?”

“When I come back, I want to use it. If the last year has taught me anything, the last few years even, it's that the only thing I'm good at is helping people. Supporting them through the good and bad. And I guess it's time to see if I can do that professionally. I was thinking of trying for a place in the Healer programme at St Mungo's.”

Ron waited, trying to assess Severus' reaction to the suggestion. “I mean, know I'm not clever enough to be like a Senior Healer or anything like that, but there are things I can do. And I can try to learn. Try and do something with myself.”

“I think you'd make a very fine Healer, actually,” Severus said. “As long as you don't ply all your patients with chocolate bars and cans of Coke.”

Ron laughed and then rummaged in his pocket. “Old habits die hard.” He reached out and put a can of Coke on the coffee table.

“When do you leave?” Severus asked.  
“In a couple of days. I'm a bit nervous... I've never been anywhere on my own for that long.” He knew he was blushing.

“And whilst you're off finding yourself and setting the world on fire, who'll be supporting you as you support the masses?”

Ron felt Severus' thumb stroking his knuckles.

“I think I need to support myself for a bit, don't you?”  
“Yes. But that doesn't mean I'm happy about the thought of you out there all alone, when all you've wanted for the past year is company. Enough that you sought it out from the world's least likely companion.” Severus cocked his head, clearly talking about himself.

Ron covered their hands with his free one and squeezed. “Do you hate me? Do you feel like I'm abandoning you?”

 

Severus hesitated again, clearly considering the best words to use. “I had hoped we'd have a chance to... work through some opportunities together. But I understand.”  
“I don't want to leave you on your own,” Ron admitted.  
“Some people are meant to be alone.”  
“Not you, though,” Ron said adamantly.

“So... we'll keep up the letters. We'll write.”  
“You could... well. You could come with me,” Ron offered.  
“Talking of ideas that aren't intelligent...” Severus rolled his eyes.  
“Change might do you good...”  
“I've had enough change. Let me recover from the last one before you drag me off to some far flung continent.”

Ron gave a defeated nod.

“This is just how things are. You need to find yourself beyond the wilds of Manchester, and I need to heal. As you say. We are not the best thing for one another at the moment.”  
“But I don't regret what happened,” Ron said firmly. “I want you to know that.”  
“I don't regret it either... it might have been a drunken mishap... but it wasn't a mistake.”

Ron leaned over and pressed a gentle kiss to Severus' cheek. He hummed happily as arms wrapped around him.

“Life is odd sometimes, isn't it?”  
“Why?” Ron didn't pull away.  
“I just never thought it would bring me here, is all. To this. To any of this.”  
“Me either,” Ron assured him.

* * *

**Seven Years Later**

“Nellie!” Ron groaned loudly. “Did I have someone booked in at two? I thought I did but I can't find my shitting diary!”

He waited for a response but his usually ever-ready secretary remained oddly silent. Letting out a huff of air he slumped in his chair and ran his fingers through his hair.

He found great satisfaction in his job, in the way that his career had gone. From the start as a trainee in St Mungo's, to progressing to the Mind Healing wards, to gaining a coveted place on the Master of Healing course, then failing it, and deciding to open his own therapy practice outside of the hospital – it had been a long road but he liked where it had led him. He liked his hectic little office, hidden from the calm and tranquil therapy room where he saw patients.

Anyone paying attention would have understood why he had taken an interest in the healing of the mind, and in particularly in forms of regression to help those deal with past trauma. That he could further the use of experimental, wandless techniques was the cherry on top of the cake. He had good success rates. His clients seemed to like him. They came to him by themselves and by referral from the hospital. He'd made a name for himself – one that he was proud to have.

“Nell?” He tried again. “Have you conked out again?”

His secretary was studying to become a MediWitch and she worked long hours between being with him and the hospital. He didn't begrudge her a bit of extra kip. He remembered what it was like.

Ron finally got up and made his way along the landing to the waiting room, where Nellie's desk lived and he had tried to make the space as least like a mental health building as possible. The candles were scented and the chairs were squashy armchairs. Bad waiting rooms made for anxious patients and he'd learned that very early on.

He heard two voices then and he stopped dead in the doorway.

Nellie was on her feet with Ron's diary in hand.

“I'm sorry, but Mr Weasley just doesn't have you-”  
“Nell. It's fine. I'm here.”

Severus looked at him then with hopeful eyes.

“You booked to see me under a false name?” Ron smiled and leaned against the door frame.  
“Had to give myself that last tiny possibility to run hell for leather in the opposite direction,” Severus said sheepishly.

Ron laughed. “Come on through. Nellie, it's fine. Is there anything else in?”  
“You've got that function at the Ministry tonight but nothing else.”  
“Cancel it,” Ron advised her. “Thank Godric, a valid excuse to not have to go.”  
“But you said that-”  
“Yeah well I say a lot of shit!” Ron shrugged. “I'm not going. Send my apologies and then you should take yourself off for the afternoon. It's nice out. Go and spend it asleep like any sane medical student would.”

She grinned at him and handed over the diary.

“Severus, this way.” Ron jerked his head down the landing.

He turned and led the way, his stomach suddenly jangling with nerves and sweat beading on his brow.

He'd seen Severus a few times over the years, but their main form of contact had turned out to be letters. Lengthy letters, short letters, sometimes nothing more than scatty notes with funny anecdotes scrawled on scraps of paper. Long, spiralling monologues which always ended with 'I might not send this' and always ended up being sent anyway. 

They had shared immensely private things over the years which had lead to a trust between them that Ron had never expected. In the years that had passed, they had seen one another through attempted relationships with others and the resulting heartbreak. He knew why he wrote, but had never quite understood why Severus wrote so freely back.

Neither of them had suggested meeting privately again, however. Ron had wanted to, many times, but in a way he had wanted it to be Severus' decision. They'd been at the same functions – mainly memorial balls, where they exchanged pleasantries and the odd stolen, lustful look.

But never alone.

“Come in, come in,” Ron said, holding open the door to his office.

Severus stopped at the threshold and looked around. “You treat patients in this pigsty?”  
“Yeah. Therapy really goes well when you're worried a stack of mouldy journals will fall on your head.” Ron made a face. “I treat people through there. That's why there's so much crap in here!”

Severus sat down in the chair opposite his desk leaving Ron to sit behind it.

“So... you're here.”  
“Am I? Christ. I hadn't noticed.”  
“You've not changed then.” Ron grinned.  
“But you have.”  
“Eh...” Ron shrugged. “I'm still a moody git and as you can see, messier than my mother's constitution can handle. Some things never change.”

Severus smiled at him but said nothing.

“You're looking well,” Ron went on.  
“Ron, do desist with the inane bullshit,” Severus said suddenly.  
“What the fuck do you want then?” Ron asked, but found he couldn't wipe the smile off his face.

If Severus was sitting in front of him, after all the time that had passed, there was likely only one thing that he wanted.

“Has enough time passed? Would we be good for one another now?” Severus asked, almost timidly.  
“Do you still want to find out?” Ron replied.  
“Do you?”

Ron got up, wondering why he'd ever sat down. He rounded the desk and pulled Severus to his feet.

When they kissed, Ron felt very much eighteen again, dizzy and excited.

“I reckon it's the right time,” he murmured against the older wizard's mouth. “Do you?”  
“Yes.”

Ron forewent another kiss in favour of properly dragging Severus against his body. His put his chin on his shoulder and squeezed.

“It's been a long time,” he whispered.  
“Mm.” Severus hummed to him. “But sometimes that's how long it takes. And you find out if the wait was worth it or not.”

They stood there, indecently close together. Ron allowed his eyes to close and just for a moment, cherished the peace which stole through him.

“Why now?” he asked, not really expecting an answer.  
“Well, my garden's a mess and my house needs decorating.”

A gentle tickle to his ribs accompanied the teasing. Ron didn't rise to the bait, and kept his smile to himself.

“I have to ask, Ron... Harry?”  
“Will always be the first love of my life who shat on my dreams and broke my heart. But I'm over it. I'm godfather to his firstborn. I'm fine with it. I moved on. I can see him together with my sister and not want to cry. It's all good.”

Severus didn't respond further and Ron hoped that his answer had been satisfactory.

“What about you?” Ron couldn't help a little probing of his own. “Still the tragic, tortured anti-hero? Every breath hurting and all that?”  
“I'm relatively pain free these days.”  
“I'm glad to hear it. I hated seeing you like that.”  
“Never stopped you coming round though, did it?”  
“Well, what can I say, misery loves company.” Ron laughed then and pulled back slightly.

“So...” Severus said, the word loaded with anticipation and suggestion.  
“Well. I'm suddenly super free tonight. Would you let me take you out for dinner? Do this properly?”  
“I'd rather you just came home with me this second, and sod propriety.”

Ron found himself blushing then and he couldn't keep the grin off his face.

“Yeah. All right then.”

_-fin-_

**Author's Note:**

> Please show your appreciation for the artist here, or on [LIVEJOURNAL](http://hp-crossgenfest.livejournal.com/50981.html)! ♥


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